Lessons Learned
by loveadubdub
Summary: My shrink says I repress feelings and emotions. She told me once that I have trouble “admitting reality” to myself. Now, I don’t know if that's true. After all, I don’t have the fancy Psychological Healing degree, do I?
1. Rose, Not Rosie

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 1

**ROSE… NOT ROSIE**

--

A bleeding welcome letter and a bleeding book list.

And that's it.

What the hell do they even send us welcome letters for? The train leaves on the same _bleeding _day every single _bleeding _year. And if we weren't expelled at the end of last term and didn't walk across that stage in the glorious graduation ceremony, it stands to reason that we'll be going back to school in the _bleeding _fall.

I mean, honestly. It's no wonder our environment is crap. The Muggles all think it's cars and factories and that sort of thing, but it's really the ridiculous wasting of paper in British wizarding schools. I should start a campaign against it- against wasting all that on stupid welcome letters to each stupid student every single stupid year. I don't know what I'd call it, though. Oh, wait. Stop Obvious Destruction Of Fabulous Forests.

S.O.D.O.F.F.

Sod the fuck _off._

Ugh. Seriously, I don't even know what I'm so upset. I mean, it's not like I even _want _to be a Prefect. They're stuck up and stuffy and all go 'round with their noses hoisted up in the air like they're some sort of bloody royalty or something. And I definitely don't want anything to do with that lot. So no, I'm not _mad _that I don't get to run about with that stupid badge pinned on my chest. I just don't think it's particularly fair that I'm smarter than all the rest of those twits in my year, probably my whole _school, _put together, and all I get is a bleeding welcome letter and a bleeding book list.

Still, though. Getting appointed Prefect isn't just about grades. Obviously. It's about being one of those perfect little yessirs and yessums that the professors all love and cream their knickers over. And obviously I am certainly not that. It's not my fault, though. The teachers hate me because I'm smarter than they are, and they pick on every single thing that I do wrong. I get in so much trouble, and it's really not even like I'm that horrible. I just refuse to be a sheep and agree with everything they say simply because they're employed by the school. Honestly, most of them aren't even that qualified, and very few of them are anything special at teaching. It's no wonder so many kids fail really. Of course, according to _them, _and by them I mean the faculty, it's because we students are slackers who don't study as diligently as we should and blah blah blah.

That's simply not the truth.

I, for one, study plenty. I make sure I always know the subject of the lesson before I even step foot in the classroom. I have pre-lecture notes and even usually take notes _during _the lecture, though often times it's completely pointless, as we have several professors whose idea of "teaching" is to read straight from the text. I revise thoroughly before every test and always, always do my homework.

But of course, they don't care about any of that.

They only care that I speak my mind and say what I think. They only care that I don't immediately believe each word that they say and take it as gospel. They only bleeding care that I'm not my bleeding mother!

But no. No, I am not upset, and I am certainly, definitely, 100 percent _not _jealous in any way, form, or fashion. So what if Al got a stupid badge? He's a good kid, right? He's not _completely _stupid. He usually follows the rules and doesn't get in much trouble. He certainly, definitely, 100 percent did _not _get awarded Prefect because his last name is Potter.

No sir. Not at all.

"Rose!"

Ugh. Said bleeding mother is calling.

"_Rose!"_

Ugh again. Does she think I didn't hear her the first time? That I've suddenly gone hard of hearing?

"I'm _coming!" _I yell back down. I know she is frowning at my tone and debating whether or not to scream back up that I better watch it, but she doesn't in the end. She figures it's not worth the effort. Ah, I know my dear mum so very well.

"We're going to be late!"

Christ on a cracker, woman! I grumble under my breath and purposely take as long as possible to lace up my trainers. I'm infinitely thankful that the hideous Velcro phase is over and that we're now back to nice, normal laces, even if Velcro is a bit easier. It's still hideous, and I can't believe we were stuck in that fashion phase for so long.

Glancing in the mirror, I try to make my hair as flat as possible. To no avail, of course. At least my outfit is okay, though I know my mum is going to comment on my choice of footwear paired with a skirt and my grandmum is going to comment on the length of said skirt. Oh well, both the old women can kiss my (rather flat, I note, glancing in the mirror) arse!

I take my time going down the stairs, humming to myself. I do this, of course, to annoy my little brother who is waiting at the bottom looking up at me with a glare.

"D'you think you could possibly be any slower?" he asks, frowning at me.

"I'm sure I could," I reply coolly. "Would you like me to go back up and try it?"

"Stop it, you two." Mum rushes into the sitting room carrying my youngest brother, Landon. He's two and well able to walk on his own, but Mum insists on carrying him whenever she's in a rush. Landon's missing a shoe, and she seems in a tizzy to find it. And she was yelling at _me _to hurry up?

Speaking of shoes, of course, she glances at mine. "Rose, don't you have any sandals to wear? You look like something out of a grunge catalogue or something."

A grunge catalogue? Seriously? What the hell is a _grunge catalogue?_

"What the hell is a grunge catalogue?" At first, I think I've spoken out loud, but then I notice that it's Hugo who's asked the very obvious question.

Mum, of course, whips her head around and narrows her eyes at him. "You watch your language!"

She is so predictable.

"Seriously, though, Mum," I urge, spotting Landon's missing shoe under the bookshelf. "What _is _a grunge catalogue?"

"Oh, I don't know!" she says, clearly exasperated. "Help me look for your brother's shoe."

Well, no ma'am, not after _that _tone.

I leave the spotted shoe alone and don't point it out. Instead, I make my way into the kitchen to look for my dad. He is leaned over the counter with his ear pressed to wireless. Quidditch, of course. It _is, _after all, Saturday. He jumps up when I come in, clearly hearing the door and thinking that it's Mum. He relaxes and goes back to the match when he realizes it's just me.

"What's the score?" I ask, grabbing an apple from the display bowl and hopping up onto the counter. My mum _insists _on having a fruit display with _real _fruit. She won't use the wax kind like normal people, and she gets seriously angry if someone eats a piece and messes up the count. So the fruit just sits there, and then when it rots, we throw it out and put up a new one. My school wastes parchment, and my mother wastes fruit.

Lovely. Let's destroy the earth _and _take food right out of starving African children's mouths.

"120-40, Puddlemere." Dad's voice sounds glum, and I wonder why he always gets so disappointed. Chudley's never, ever going to win, so I don't know why it's always a surprise when they lose.

I chomp into the apple, and Dad looks up. "You know you're not supposed to eat that," he says lazily. I shrug, and I can tell he's too caught up in Quidditch to care too much.

"Finally!" The door to the kitchen swings open again, and Mum comes in, pushing Landon's foot into the apparently located stray shoe. She stops short when she sees Dad fumbling to turn the wireless off and pretend like he wasn't just listening to a Quidditch match instead of helping her find the baby's shoe.

"Honestly!" She shakes her head furiously, and some of her hair flies straight into Landon's face. "I've been looking all over this bloody house for the baby's shoe, and you're in here listening to _Quidditch?!" _

I told you. Predictable…

"Here," she thrusts Landon into his arms. "See if you can manage to get your son to your parents' house _without _getting sidetracked and winding up at a Cannons' game."

Dad rolls his eyes (when he's turned away from Mum, of course) and carries Landon back into the living room. I know he would _much _rather be at a Cannons' game than be going to his parents' for the afternoon. Hell, so would _I, _and I don't even support that god-awful team.

Mum finally seems to notice me and snaps at me for sitting on the counter. "I just cleaned it! And did that come from the display?!" She is eyeing the half-eaten apple in my hand.

I toss it into the sink and wipe my hands on the front of my skirt. "We don't even have any other apples," I point out.

She looks at me like she wants to slap me, but, of course, she doesn't. She just tells me to go to the Burrow as she removes the apple from the sink and places it properly into the bin.

I reluctantly do as she says. Dad and Hugo are already gone, so I grab the Floo Powder from on top of the fireplace and toss it in. The flames go all Slytheriny green, and I step in to say, with as much enthusiasm as possible, "The Burrow!"

Stumbling into the sitting room of my grandparents' house, I try to wipe the soot from my face. I hope that I've accomplished this and haven't just succeeded in smearing it 'round more, but, of course, I have no mirror and cannot say for sure. Grandmum accosts me almost immediately, wrapping me in a bear hug so tightly that I'm not sure I can breathe for a moment. She lets me go, of course, and helps me at wiping some of the ash away from my cheeks.

"Oh, Rosie, dear," she says sweetly, knowing fully well that I _despise _being called Rosie. She's beaming at me in the fake nice way only grandmothers can, "You look absolutely _lovely. _Don't you think, though, that your skirt might be just a _tad _short?"

She's almost as predictable as my mother.

"It's not my fault, Grandmum," I reply back, with innocence as fake as her back-handed compliment. "They just don't make skirts for girls with long legs." I shrug hopelessly and frown a bit for measure.

"Oh, dear," she says, shaking her head. "Well, I'm sure I could make you something if you like!"

"Sure!" I reply happily, hurrying off.

_Like hell._

The kitchen smells good as I pass through it, and I realize that I'm not _too _upset about being forced over here for the afternoon. After all, nobody cooks like my grandmum, and there _is _something to be said for her home-cooked meals. It makes the torture of putting up with The Family almost worth it in the end.

I head to the backyard, desperate to find someone besides my parents or grandparents to talk to. Actually, I really only want to talk to one person, but I settle for Lily and Hugo who are already sitting together under a tree. They're hunched over a book and seem quite suspicious…

"What're you two up to?" I ask, trying to get a glimpse of the book they're engrossed in.

Lily, though, snaps it shut and holds it close to her the second I speak. "None of your business," she says hatefully.

"Oh, piss off, Lily."

"Don't tell me to piss off!" Lily stands up furiously, and I wonder when she turned into such a bitch. There was a time, not so long ago in fact, when she idolized me in every way. She used to think I was the coolest person on earth, but now she's every bit as annoying as Hugo.

I liked her much better when she worshipped me.

"Oh, what're you going to do?" I ask, feigning terror. "Run off and tell Mummy and Daddy?"

I know she hates to be spoken to in that tone- that babyish tone. It irritates her to no end. Dad told me once that Aunt Ginny was exactly the same. She was the youngest girl in a family of boys, too, just like Lily, and Dad said there was no easier way to wind her up than to speak to her like she was a toddler. It works wonders on her daughter, as well.

Lily just glares at me, still clutching that stupid book. "C'mon," she snaps, to Hugo, though she's still looking at me. He gets up quickly and follows her obediently. It's a shame that they're cousins really because Lily is never going to find any other bloke to mindlessly follow her commands as readily as my dear brother. No matter how obnoxiously pretty she is.

I watch them hurry off to another area of the yard and disappear behind some hills. They're so much fun to torture I can't even feel bad about.

The sound of the back door opening and closing again draws my attention, and there he is. The one person I came back here searching for in the first place. Al is walking with his older brother, and they seem to be deep in conversation about something. It's annoying, I decide, that everyone seems to be having deep conversations, and I'm all alone. I put my foot out just as they obliviously pass me, and Al trips and stumbles, though he doesn't actually fall.

"Fuck, Rose!" he says, straightening up and glancing around nervously. There are no adults in our midst, so he is safe.

I grin at him. "Now, that's not very appropriate language for a Prefect, is it?"

James snorts, and Al turns red. It makes me feel better that even though he managed to escape the curse of the Weasley red hair, he couldn't escape the Weasley blush. It's only fair after all.

"Stop," Al says seriously. "I didn't ask for that crap, you know?"

James laughs again, and I roll my eyes. "Oh, it's okay," I say with sarcastic sweetness. "You'll be brilliant, I'm sure."

"Ah," James speaks up, a knowing (and annoying) glint in his eye. "Methinks thou dost protest too much. Not jealous, are we?"

I want to slap him. Of course, that is nearly an automatic reaction every time I see him, so it's not really a surprise. "James, don't say shit like _methinks. _It makes you sound even queerer than you really are."

It's a good thing I've got loads of practice dodging him because the punch that goes flying through the air right where my head just was would probably hurt quite a bit. I straighten up and smirk. "You know, if you were really comfortable with your sexuality, comments like that wouldn't bother or affect you."

"Oh, I'm not bothered," he shoots back immediately. "I just thought I saw some sort of horrible rodent on your shoulder and was trying to squash it. Sorry, I didn't realize it was just your face."

"James Potter, I hope I didn't just hear you call your cousin a rodent."

Aunt Ginny has appeared, as she tends to do quite often whenever James is getting up to stuff he shouldn't. She doesn't even spare him a glance, though, as she bustles past us with a stack of plates. She carries them over to the picnic tables that have been conjured and begins setting them out. I smirk and raise my eyebrows defiantly at James.

Rose One/James Zero.

The thing about James, though, is that he knows perfectly well that I know he isn't gay or even remotely interested in the ol' John Thomas. He is, for lack of a better term, the biggest manwhore in our entire school, and I swear I'm nearly the only girl in my entire year who he hasn't got off with or at least come close. Not to mention, of course, the years above me. Hopefully he doesn't try to have it off with the ones below me this year, as that'd just be verging on disgusting. Not like he'd need to anyway. There are loads upon loads of girls always willing to give him a second (and third, fourth, and fifth) spin on the Ferris Wheel. I don't know why, honestly. He's a complete and total bastard, and he treats every last one of them like shit the moment he's done with them. But it doesn't hurt, I am _very _sure, that his surname is Potter and that he oozes the kind of ooze one would expect from the heir to a ridiculously rich Savior of the Universe.

But Al isn't like that. Al used to be caught up in all things Potter when we were mere Firsties and relished in it a bit, but now I think he is annoyed by it. He doesn't say that, of course, for fear that it might seem like he's denouncing his dad or some bollocks. But it bothers him, I know. He doesn't like introducing himself to new people and tries as often as possible to leave his surname off completely. He cringes whenever people tell him how remarkably like his father he looks. It doesn't help that people who say this always seem to think they're the very first person in the world to make this observation. It's true, though. They look damn near identical, though, of course, Al is much younger obviously. But pictures from the 90s don't lie, and Al is undoubtedly Uncle Harry as a teenager made over.

James does _not _look like Harry Potter. James is taller and not as scrawny as his father apparently was as a teenager (or as his brother is currently). He's got dark red hair that's not _quite _traditional Weasley red but definitely nowhere near jet black. It does tend to be a bit out of control, but it's longish and mostly just flips out at the ends instead of being all over his head like his dad and brother's. And, lucky for him, his very normal brown eyes are equipped with perfect vision.

Their personalities are night and day, too. Al is quiet and polite and tries desperately to blend into the wallpaper wherever he goes. He hates confrontation and always tries to avoid it all costs. James, on the other hand, is loud and thrives off of confrontation. He _loves _to be the center of attention and has a mouth that gets him in trouble more often than not. James and I are actually just alike (at least according to everyone we know). That's probably why we can't stand each other.

That and he's an insufferable bastard, of course.

"I don't even know which girl they picked," Al breaks in, completely ignoring the momentary spat between his brother and me. He's back on the Prefect thing.

I grin, knowing the answer and knowing the effect it's going to bring. "Meghan did," I say promptly. "She owled me."

Al, almost on cue, turns pink again. I can tell he's trying very hard to stay a normal color, which only makes the whole thing funnier.

James, catching on immediately, smirks widely. "Good on you, mate!" he says enthusiastically as he slings an arm around his younger brother's shoulder. "You might even get 'round to snogging her!"

Al shrugs him away angrily, growing from pink to an even red. He glares at both of us, and I can't help but laugh at the look on his face. James laughs, too. We don't normally get along, but there are moments like this- moments when we're torturing members of our family- that we get on rather splendidly.

"I hear the Prefects get loads of alone time together," James carries on smoothly, not even phased by his brother's embarrassment. "You can take her up to the Astronomy Tower. They _really _like that."

"And if it's any consolation," I pipe up, not wanting to miss out on an opportunity to take the piss out of my cousin (granted the only one I can stand), "I think she probably fancies you a bit, too."

"If you heard her muttering _Potter _in her sleep, she was probably talking about me," James quips. "But in respect of our brotherhood, I'll stay away from her." He winks at Al who narrows his eyes and glares back at us.

"Oh, sod off," he snaps. "Both of you."

He is very, very easy.

As expected, Al stalks off away from us. He doesn't take well to teasing. It goes with the whole hating to be the center of attention thing, I guess. He's "sensitive." Or at least that's what Aunt Ginny said last summer when she was yelling at Fred and James after they made him their teasing target and he ended up all red-faced and sullen.

He still hasn't lived it down…

"So, _Rosie Posie," _James says, his voice laced with fake sweetness as he now slings an arm over _my _shoulder. Rosie Posie is even worse than plain Rosie. "You're feeling the sting of being passed over quite heavily, aren't you?"

"As a matter of fact, _Jamie, _I couldn't care less." He hates Jamie almost as much as I hate Rosie.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." I nod for good measure. Obviously because it's the truth. I _don't _care- absolutely, positively 100 percent _don't care. _James is staring at me all knowingly and annoying-like, so I prattle on mindlessly. "As a matter of fact, I'm _happy _even. Like I really want to associate with Fiona Enkleton and _that _lot. Right." Fiona Enkleton is in James's year- Ravenclaw Prefect and damn near shoo in for Head Girl. She is annoying and bossy and one of those types who thinks her Prefect badge makes her God's gift to the flat earth. Everyone despises her.

James doesn't seem deterred, despite the fact that I so clearly proved the very true point that I do not care one bit about getting made Prefect or any of that crap. "It must really be a blow to your ego," he said smoothly. "I mean, can't even get promoted to Prefect and all that bit."

"Excuse me, but I don't see you with a badge, either."

"Ah," he smirks, and I have to twist my fingers together to keep from punching him, "see the difference is that I don't care. _You, _on the other hand, can't stand to lose at anything."

He's right, of course. And it's bloody fucking annoying is what it is. Sometimes I wonder how I've made it fifteen full years without murdering James Potter. Never, though, will I ever admit that he's right. The world will end before that happens.

"I don't care, either," I retort, lying through my teeth. "I am sure I can think of a _million _better way to spend my year than in Prefect meetings."

This isn't entirely true, of course. There really aren't that many things to do outside of class, save the occasional Hogsmeade weekend and that sort of thing. Life is actually pretty boring at school, so it might actually be kind of nice to have something to do besides sit around in the Common Room every single night.

But I'm never, _ever _admitting that.

My shrink says I repress feelings and emotions. She told me once that I have trouble "admitting reality" to myself. Now… whether or not that's true, I don't know. After all, I don't have the fancy Psychological Healing degree, do I? But what I _do _know is that whenever I catch myself doing that, I always have a really, really good reason. I don't really consider it _lying _because there's always a very good excuse, so it doesn't really count.

I promise I'm not crazy.

James is giving me that stupid look again- the one that I hate because it usually means he is successfully performing Legilimency and knows everything I'm thinking. Except he's totally not because he is nowhere _near _talented enough to do Legilimency. _I _can't even do it, and I'm pretty much the smartest person I know (and no, I'm not be conceited, it's just the truth). But James is James, and he has a habit of driving me completely mental by always knowing what I'm thinking whenever I don't want him to.

I hate him.

"And _anyway," _I go on, pretending like I don't notice his smirk, "there was no way they were going to give me Prefect. My parents got called to school _twice _last year, if you recall. _Your _parents haven't even been called twice in one year!"

In fact, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny have only ever been called once. That was in James's fifth year when he "accidentally" flooded the entire Slytherin Common Room with manky fish guts after losing the Quidditch final. James gets in trouble a lot, but he usually manages to squeak by with detentions and that sort of thing; not me, though, I'm nowhere near that lucky. My parents really were called twice last year. They were called first because I called my Potions professor "an idiotic , blubbering imbecile who couldn't get laid if he was the last wizard in Oz." Needless to say, that probably wasn't my smartest move. They got called a month later because I got in a fight with Marianne Robbecks and turned her hair into earthworms. That was actually pretty funny, especially since I've wanted to hex Marianne for as long as I can remember. But she ended up in St. Mungo's, and I ended up in detention for _two months_. My parents weren't too thrilled either time, but after their second trip, they were absolutely livid. My mum even purposefully humiliated me by blessing me out in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room before she literally dragged me up to my dormitory and _really _let me have it. She even threatened to yank me out of school and bring me home if there was one more "infraction," as she called it. I guess it worked because I was scared enough by that point to try and make a conscious effort to stay out of trouble for awhile.

But still. One little bout of good behavior can't erase my entire record, can it?

James rolls his eyes. He does this because he's secretly jealous of the fact that I've managed to get into more trouble than him. I think he _tries _to get in trouble sometimes, but people always tend to look away, I guess, when Harry Potter is your father. I think that's the only part of the Potter legacy that James dislikes, which obviously is completely stupid.

But… okay, no, I can't think of a better way to describe James Potter than completely stupid.

There's a loud screech from inside, and James and I both look toward the kitchen window to see what the commotion is. It isn't hard to figure out. It's one of those squealy screeches that signifies something incredibly girly and usually ridiculous. Of course, James and I both find out the source as the back door flies open, and Victoire comes outside, flanked by both of our mothers, Grandmum, _and _Lily, who has somehow managed to get back inside in the time since she stomped away from me. Victoire is very swollen around the middle, probably about eight months pregnant, I think. The baby's supposed to be here by October. It's silly how everyone fawns over her and how they act shocked every time they see her, like they haven't known she's pregnant since forever. I will admit, though, that she _does _seem to get bigger every time I see her. But still. Is being pregnant really _that _much of an accomplishment? I'm surprised Vic even allowed herself to get that way, seeing as how it's making her incredibly fat. Mum says there's a very big difference between being fat and being pregnant… the only difference I see, though, is the very big part.

The pregnant girl looks absolutely miserable, but everyone else is positively giddy as they usher her over toward the picnic tables and start fawning over her even more. James, for what it's worth, is the only other person around besides me who doesn't seem to think that being pregnant is worthy of some sort of parade or something. We roll our eyes at each other knowingly and reluctantly join the rest of the group at the tables.

Of course, it takes us all of about two seconds to wish we hadn't.

"Oh, James," Aunt Ginny says, waving at him dismissively, "you and Rose go and get the food. We can set it up out here."

This, of course, is completely stupid. I'm one of about five people in the vicinity who _can't _legally do magic. Everyone else could just Summon the food plates without even standing up. But oh, no, I have to walk all the way back to the house and carry the food by hand. James, on the other hand, _can _do magic, but he seems to forget this as he grumbles under his breath and kicks a stray rock on his way back to the house.

"You know," I say snidely when we finally reach the door, "you could have just Summoned your part…"

James, thick as he is, realizes I'm right and glares at me. "You could have told me that about two minutes ago."

"I could have," I agree, nodding solemnly for good measure.

The food is all set up and ready to be transported. Al's in there, sitting at the table with his dad and my dad. Landon's in there, too, playing under the table by himself. He crawls out and runs to me as soon as I get there, though. He loves me, if I do say so myself. I'm his favorite person, and he makes no secret of it.

Seeing a _very _easy out to my problem, I bend down and scoop my baby brother up into my arms. He is actually getting quite big and is starting to be rather heavy, but I make the sacrifice because I know no one is going to make me work when I'm tending to the baby. Landon hugs me and tugs on my hair, he really loves pulling on my curls. Sometimes I think it's sort of weird how much I can adore one little brother and despise the other… but then I remember that Hugo can _talk _and I remember why I hate him.

"Wosie."

Landon, as though reading my mind, reminds me that he can form a few words as well- my name being one of them. Of course, he doesn't get the difference between R and W… but he's two, so I'll let him slide. He's also the only person who can call me Rosie (or Wosie) without making me want to scream.

"Oi! You going to help me with this or what?" James is looking at me expectantly as he motions toward the stacks of food on the counter and stove.

"I'm taking care of my _brother," _I answer swiftly, as though this settles everything. "Just use your damn wand."

James glares at me but then follows my advice and sends a pot roast and a plate of potatoes flying out the open door. He tries to send the chicken, but he only succeeds in getting it about two inches off the counter before it falls back with a loud clank.

Frustrated, James groans and looks to his father for help. "Dad, do this." Okay, so it wasn't really a request for help, more so a demand for assistance. Uncle Harry just stares at him before (to my own horror) _obeying _him and sending the rest of the food flying outside. It's done almost instantly, and James, for some unknown reason, looks rather proud of himself as he pockets his wand and dusts his hands off. Al rolls his eyes _so _far back in his head that it's a miracle they don't get stuck. He has a habit of doing that- it's sort of like his signature or something.

Landon laughs loudly, though I'm not sure what he finds so funny. Maybe it's the magic or James's stupidity or Al's disappearing eye trick. Maybe he's just two and laughs for no reason. I don't know. I don't remember being two years old, so I have no real way of knowing what goes on inside their tiny little heads. Actually, Landon's head is rather big, but that's a whole other story…

"Where's Teddy?" James asks, grabbing an empty seat at the table and slumping down into it as though he's been doing manual labor all day. He doesn't seem to realize that his entire day's work amounts to watching his father perform one spell. He's such an idiot.

"He went off somewhere with Hugo," Al replies. He is still miffed at us, I can tell. He isn't going to let on, though, because he doesn't want his dad asking any questions. Or _my _dad for that matter. And he certainly doesn't want either of our mums asking. They all coddle him to a certain point, and he hates it. He tries to act a lot tougher than he really is so that people stop thinking he needs to be handled with kitten gloves. The truth is, though, Al really _is _a bit overly-sensitive. He gets his feelings hurt really easily, and he is really unsure of himself on a lot of things, which makes it more than a little difficult to live in his father's shadow. To make matters worse, he also has to live in his _brother's _shadow, and I would shoot myself in the face if I had to live in anything associated with James Potter. But Al manages well enough, I guess.

He'll get over being angry with us by the end of dinner, I'm sure.

"Why isn't the match on?" James asks, leaning forward to talk to my dad. They're actually really close, and James gets on quite a bit better with my dad than he does with his own. My dad's his godfather, and he's brainwashed James into supporting the Cannons, much to Aunt Ginny's great chagrin. Aunt Ginny used to play for the Harpies a long time ago before James ruined her life and ruined her career. She obviously wants her kids to support her old team, and Al and Lily pretty much do for the most part, though I think Al mostly likes their uniforms and Lily mostly likes that they're all girls because she's all Girl Power!Woo! But James is about as anti-Harpies as it's possible to get. He doesn't even enjoy them on the same sexist level that Al does. He absolutely _despises _them. And for some ungodly reason, he supports the bloody Chudley Cannons who never win anything and who are about as nearly awful as a team that calls itself professional is allowed to be.

So, of course, my dad loves him.

I personally don't really give two shits about professional Quidditch, but I would much rather be inside listening to the boys' talk sports than outside with the women cooing over Victoire's baby bump. So I shut up and listen as my dad Summons the old wireless from the living room and tunes it up to the match. The score is now 380-60. The Cannons are getting their arses handed to them (big surprise), and Dad and James both insist on pulling awful faces and hissing boos each time Puddlemere makes another goal.

It's so stupid.

The only amusing part of this entire thing is when Puddlemere intercepts the Quaffle from McLeary and makes a half-pitch goal. The crowd goes wild at the stadium, and you can hear it over the commentary. As all the invisible people cheer and yell, Landon claps his hands happily and cries, "Yayayayay!!"

I think Dad might keel over.

As I don't want my baby brother to become a victim of child abuse, I smartly carry him outside and away from the madness that is Saturday afternoon Quidditch at the Burrow. If the rest of my uncles were here, you wouldn't be able to hear yourself think the way they'd all be shouting and carrying on. Of course, they'd all be cheering Puddlemere and ragging Dad and James to no end (that would be the nice part)…

"Don't ever support the Cannons, okay?" I ask Landon, looking him straight in the eye as we duck into the hot afternoon sun.

He nods and giggles before head-butting me. I love this kid.

Now if only the rest of my family didn't drive me crazy….

--

A/N: For those of you who don't know, this is a sequel to my last story, "Lost." There's not too much you need to know about the other story at this point, but that will change so it might be helpful to check it out if you're interested in this one.

This one has a completely different writing style and will switch narrators each chapter. It's sort of modeled after the book _Doing It _by Melvin Burgess (which is an awesomely amazing book), and that will definitely be a theme for all these insane teenagers…

I'd really appreciate honest feedback on this- let me know if you liked it, hated it, whatever. I want to know, so please, please review!!


	2. I'm James Potter

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 2

**I'M JAMES POTTER**

--

One, two, three, four…

"_James!"_

Five.

Fuck.

My mother doesn't realize how annoying her voice is- either that or she simply doesn't care. Or perhaps she screams like that all the time on purpose just to get on my nerves. If that's what she does, then she should be very pleased with herself because it works very well.

I can hear her stomping up the stairs, and I know she's about to fly off the handle. She's _mad. _I know why, too, but I quickly jump into my bed and pretend to be asleep. Just in time, too, because the door flies open a second later, and I can actually _feel _her glare even with my eyes clamped shut.

"Stop pretending to be asleep!" she orders. Yes, she is _definitely _angry. I give a little fake snore to try and prove her theory on my faking false. Trust me, it doesn't work… "Get your arse up right this second, or I will get it up for you!"

My mother may be a lot of things, but she is certainly _not _a woman of empty threats. If she threatens that she can succeed in getting my arse up, I don't doubt for even a second that she can. Or that she will. So, wanting to save myself the inevitable embarrassment, I stir just enough to be believable then blow it by eliciting a rather overdramatic yawn that sends my mum over the edge. She yanks the blanket off my bed roughly (glad I've got pants on at least) and then smacks me across the back of the head.

"Ow!" I cry, sitting up and rubbing my head. I knew it was coming, but I wasn't prepared. "Damn, Mum, let a man sleep, will ya?!"

Her eyes are blazing, and she looks to be using every available ounce of self-control to keep from strangling me. Not that I feel safe, of course. Just because she isn't strangling me _now _doesn't mean that she won't in about two minutes. She wants to make sure I hear her loud and clear as she lets me have it. I can't do that if I'm dead, can I?

"What the _hell _was she doing here?" she demands angrily.

My first defense has always been, and _will _always be, to play dumb. I'm quite good at it, too, probably because a lot of people think I actually _am _dumb. My marks surely reflect their assumption…

"Huh?" I ask, faking puzzlement. "Who are you talking about?"

Mum is furious. I know I'm probably making it worse in the long-run, but the largest part of my brain just says, _"Prolong, Prolong!"_

"I don't even know what the little bint's name is!" she cries angrily.

I try really, _really _hard not to laugh at the fact that my Mum just said _bint_, as… what kind of mother says _bint?! _I must be smirking against my own will because Mum glares at me in a way that lets me know in no uncertain terms that she plans on killing me once she finds out the name.

"Don't test me!" she orders seriously. "Who was that girl, and why the hell was she sneaking out of my house at," she glances quickly at her watch, "four o'clock in the morning?!"

Play dumb, Potter. I tell myself to keep it up and stick to the story.

"Mum, I don't know what you're on about…"

"James Potter, I swear to _god _that I am _thisclose _to losing it, and if you don't want to see that happen, then I suggest you tell me why you think it's alright to sneak girls into this house in the middle of the night!"

"Honestly, Mum," I say as calmly as possible, "I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't sneak any girls in here…"

"Then perhaps you can tell me why I just went downstairs for a glass of water and saw a blonde teenage girl stepping into the fireplace."

My mum is the thirstiest person I've ever met in my entire life. You'd _think _that by now she would have realized that keeping a glass of water by her bed would be a smart move. But no… She has _the _most inopportune timing.

"I don't know who it was," I say, shrugging. "Did you ask Al?"

Mum scoffs at me, and that's it. I finally lose it. Even _Mum _knows the little prat is so useless with girls that the thought of him sneaking any over is downright laughable. And she's his _mother!_

"Fine, okay," I say, struggling to get my snickering under control. I know I've blown my cover by laughing, so now the best method is to tell the truth and lace it with as many lies as possible. "That was Amy."

"And _why _was she in my house?"

This is it, Potter. Lay it on thick. I force the laughter away and put on the best somber expression I can manage. "She just needed to talk to someone."

"_Talk?!"_

I nod, pretending not to notice that she doesn't believe me for a second. "Yeah, her dad, see, he's a real bad alcoholic, and her mum is really depressed and just lies in bed for days at a time. Amy's been having a really rough time of it since school's been out, and she sent me an owl the other day saying she didn't know how to deal with it anymore." I shake my head sadly for good measure. "So I told her, you know, that if she ever needed someone to talk to, she could come over and I'd listen and let her vent… I didn't know that she'd show up in the middle of the night, but then she was crying so bad and everything, I didn't think it was right to just send her straight back without letting her get some of it out and making sure she was alright."

Mum is staring at me, waiting, I'm sure, to see if I crack even a hint of a smile so she can bust me. She doesn't want to believe me, I know, but she'll feel really awful if I'm telling the truth and poor Amy really does live with a drunk dad and a crazy, deadbeat mum. I watch the confliction behind her eyes and struggle to keep it all together. Sad, Potter, _sad. _

"What's her surname?" she asks finally.

"Page." Please, _please _don't let her know them.

She doesn't. Whew. "Does she have any siblings?"

I shake my head. "No, it's just Amy. That's why she doesn't have anyone else to talk to. She's really alone there…"

"How old is she?"

"Sixteen. Things should be okay, though, since we're going back to school tomorrow. Today, I mean," I correct myself, realizing that I've got to be on the train in less than seven hours and that I haven't yet been to sleep.

Mum nods slowly, but I can tell she finally believes me. _Yes._

James 1/Mum 0.

"Well, you let me know if there's anything I need to check into," she says seriously. She is about to go all concerned-mother on me. "That's not a good environment for a child."

I nod, humoring her. "I will. I'm really tired, though, so I'm just going to try and catch a few hours of sleep before I have to get up."

She nods and gives me one of those sentimental smiles that just screams how proud she is of me for being such a good friend and trying to help poor Amy. If only she knew exactly _how _I helped her… I wonder why Mum hasn't asked me why I was doing all my good deeds wearing nothing but my underwear, but I certainly don't question it. Just let her keep thinking I'm the nice guy.

"Okay, I'll get you up," she assures me, as if I'd sleep through my alarm on September 1st. Not a chance. Especially not _this _year. My _last _year. Oh, no, I've been ready for _weeks._

I was right, too. When it comes time to wake up, I don't even have to hit the snooze button. It takes me a second to get fully awake, and I remember immediately why I feel so relaxed. "Helping" Amy really worked out any and all tension I might be having otherwise. Smiling at the memory of the night before, I get out of bed and stumble to the bathroom. Al is already in there, and I can hear the water running from the shower. I don't understand the point of being rich if I still have to share a bathroom with my little brother. Honestly, it's not like we can't afford to add an extra bathroom. Mum and Dad have their own, and Lily has her own… but Al and I have had to share and fight for the same bathroom our entire lives, and I just don't think it's fair.

Banging on the door, I yell at Al to hurry up, and I'm pretty sure he says, "Piss off," but maybe not. It's hard to hear over the water. I don't particularly _need _to be in a hurry, as it's just now 8 o'clock, but I'm more than a little anxious to get back to school. Not back to the work part, of course, but back to the friends and back to the girls and back the Quidditch… I'm Captain this year, and I can guarantee you that this year's Gryffindor Quidditch team is going to be the best team Hogwarts has ever seen. I fully intend on playing professionally next year, and I fully intend on stacking my team with the absolute best of the best in order to make the recruitment process as easy as possible. I don't care if I have to cut my own brother. Which, of course, I won't, as Al's probably the best Seeker in the school and certainly in Gryffindor… but yeah, you know what I mean.

Speaking of my brother, he finally gets his arse out of the shower and appears from behind the bathroom door with a towel around his waist and his hair mopping wet. He is so skinny that it's almost pathetic.

"Finally." I shove past him and into the steam-filled bathroom. He's probably used all the hot water, and if he has, then I'm going to going to be _really _miffed. The morning shower is my absolute favorite part of the day. I love to take long, hot showers; it's just so relaxing. If he's ruined my shower on the first day of my last year of school, I'm going to be seriously mad.

Turning on the tap, I stick my hand under the water and am relieved to feel that it's hot and not ice cold as I'd feared. As I'm just wearing the pants I pulled on after Amy left, I don't have much to strip off. The water feels wonderful as it crashes down all around me. Closing my eyes, I take a moment to simply enjoy the simplicity of it all. I know that sounds incredibly queer, but forgive me for having a bit of a poetic side. Girls love that sort of thing- that completely gay "poetic" shit. And I love girls. It's a good thing Amy showed up last night, or I'd be forced to spend this first shower of the new school year wanking. Seeing as how Amy was able to take care of all that sort of stuff last night, though… Yes, I'm able to simply enjoy it.

Finally, after what's probably close to forty-five minutes, I turn off the water and step out into the cool air. I hate that, it's the worst part of the shower. A chill rushes over me, and I shudder against it. Grabbing a towel from the closet, I use it to dry off as quickly as possible before wrapping it 'round my waist. I'm surprised Al hasn't started banging on the door yet and telling me he has to finish getting ready. I take the opportunity to do a bit of my own getting ready. The mirror's all fogged up, but I grab the towel from around my waist and use it to wipe at the fog.

Ah. Hello, James. You're looking handsome this morning.

_Why, thank you._

It's no wonder my self-esteem is through the roof. The compliments I receive every time I look in the mirror are enough to raise anyone's- even someone like Al's. Maybe I should suggest that to him, let him know that self-complimenting is a very healthy way to build confidence and self-esteem. Not that I _need _to compliment myself, of course, because, well, I'm James Potter. And if I do say so myself, I'm definitely easy on the eyes, and, well… I'm James Potter.

Damn, these abs are sexy. Working out definitely _does _do a body good. And these _pecs. _Biceps, triceps, and everything in between. Not to mention, of course, my, er, nether regions, which are looking as fabulous as ever.

I turn my attention to studying my face as I begin brushing my teeth. I don't need to shave, I did that a few days ago. Luckily, I'm spot-free on this first morning of my last year of school. And my hair is curling up just at the right spot with it's fresh out of the shower wetness. Brush, brush, spit, rinse, repeat. And there it is, my perfect rich boy smile.

God, I love myself.

Mum has mushroom omelets for breakfast. And bacon. I love bacon. She smiles when I show up, all clean and dressed and looking as good as ever. I know what she's doing.

"I can't believe this is your last year," she says with that stupid, sentimental _mother _voice.

"Don't worry, Mum," I answer, swiping a piece of bacon straight from the pan and wincing at the hotness of it, "Lils's only in third."

"Don't call me Lils." Lily is already at the table, and she is pouting about something. I've no idea what, and I don't particularly care too much. Lily's very dramatic these days. I blame rock music. Of course, it's probably just puberty, but it's always better to blame pierced musicians rather than acknowledge that your baby sister has hormones and all that sort of thing.

"Did you see your brother up there?" Mum asks, ignoring both of us.

I sit down at the table and easily catch the plate Mum sends my way. The omelet smells fabulous, and the bacon is just perfectly fried. "I saw him earlier," I answer, my mouth full of egg. "He probably went back to sleep."

This is, of course, probably _not _true. He is probably just upstairs being all moody and trying to figure out how to be a Prefect without getting shit on. Nobody likes those prats, and he knows it. He's probably upstairs trying to figure out how to get himself expelled so that he doesn't have to prance around with that stupid badge.

"He better not have gone back to sleep." Mum goes to the door and yells toward the stairs. "Al, are you coming down?!"

He doesn't answer, but no one is surprised. He does, however, show up a few minutes later, looking just as uneasy and nervous as I expected. He knows he's going to catch all sorts of crap. The Prefect badge, unsurprisingly, is nowhere in sight.

I love when perfect opportunities present themselves like that.

"Where's your Prefect badge, Al?" I ask, as innocently as possible of course.

My brother glares at me, but I simply raise my eyebrows in question. Mum, of course, turns around at my question and examines her youngest son. "Where _is _it?" she asks, looking Al up and down. "You're supposed to wear it, love."

Lily snickers, and Al looks like he wants to die. Mum is oblivious, and I am highly, _highly _amused.

"I will," he mutters, slumping down into his own seat and giving me the old two finger salute the second Mum's back is turned. Now, if that was _me, _she'd inevitably see it with her eyes in the back of the head shit that she has going on wherever I'm concerned. But, of course, it's _not _me, it's _Al. _And Al, as we all know, can do no wrong.

Dad finally shows up as everyone else is nearly finished eating. He looks tired, and I wonder why, seeing as how it's now nearly 9:30. This certainly isn't getting up early for him, as he's usually gone before the sun's even fully up. But I reckon it's probably one of those things where too much sleep makes you even more tired than before.

He sits down for breakfast, but Mum is already clearing off the table. "We need to hurry," she says, motioning toward the clock. "We've got to get the car loaded and everything."

This is obvious to everyone in the room, but I seem to be the only one excited by it. "I can do it!" I've been seventeen for nearly nine months now, but I'm still not used to being able to legally perform magic outside of school. This is the first summer I've had that privilege, and I've exercised this right considerably few times. So, yes, the prospect of floating all the trunks and magically expanding the car is rather exciting to me. _Excuse me._

Mum and Dad share one of those Looks between each other, and I resist the urge to tell them about it, as I'm sure that's not exactly the response they want from me at the moment. Finally, they seem to agree that I should at least be given a chance at loading up the car, and Mum nods noncommittally. Dad tells me to let him know if I need any help.

And so I'm off.

This'll be easy, right? Find the trunks, levitate them all downstairs and out the door, expand the boot of the car, pack them all in nicely, and Bob's your uncle! Right?

_Wrong._

Okay, truth be told, I'm actually not all that talented at this sort of thing. It's not that I'm _stupid _or a Squib or anything… I just really hate school (the work part, not the social part), and I don't pay a lot of attention. It is very obvious to me as I grunt under the weight of Lily's trunk and try to squeeze it into the boot with the other two that I must have skived off the day we had the lesson on expansion.

"_Dad!"_

My dad can do it, and he does. All three trunks are slipped into the back of the car easily with very little trouble at all. Dad barely seems to raise his wand, and everything falls into place just like that.

Dad 1/James 0.

Boo.

I probably visibly cringe when Dad finishes the loading and looks at me with _that _look. It's different than Mum's look- the sentimental one. This one is much more direct and less sappy. It's more of concern and seriousness. It's the same look he gave me two years ago when he decided to tell me about sex. Not the details, of course, _gross, _but, you know, the technicalities of it. I guess he didn't realize that that bridge had already been crossed and that even if it hadn't, I'd have easily been able to find out anything I wanted to know with the magazines that tended to float 'round my dorm on a regular basis.

The sex talk was actually sort of hilarious, come to think of it. Dad looked frightened out of his mind, not at all like the Savior of the Wizarding World or any of that bollocks. I could tell that Mum was forcing him to have "the talk" and that he definitely wasn't there of his own voluntary will. Of course, it was also totally embarrassing and awkward, and I couldn't help but think about him and my mum having it off… and I have no idea why I'm rehashing it now, it was painful enough back then!

"What's up?" I ask casually, trying desperately to erase the images overtaking my brain.

Dad looks like he doesn't know whether he really wants to do this or not, and I really hope that he doesn't. I'm not sure what he wants to talk about, but I can tell it's either really boring or really embarrassing. My hopes are not granted, of course, and Dad finally sighs and leans against the car thoughtfully.

"You're being careful, aren't you?"

Okay. So he wants to talk about sex _again? _Fine, if he really wants to go there, I'll make it as difficult as possible.

"Oh, yeah," I answer, nodding eagerly. "I always wear all the protective eyewear in Potions, and obviously all the gloves and all that bit in Herbology, and…"

"James." He looks at me in a final sort of way, and I snicker. He really is too easy. "James, I'm serious."

"Relax, Dad," I say, waving him off carelessly. "You won't have any grandkids poking around here anytime soon if that's what you're worried about. Not from me anyway." When he raises his eyebrows questioningly, I press on just a bit. "Probably not at all, actually. Lily's a baby, and Al's very likely gay."

"James." Why do parents always think that saying your name is enough to make you straighten up and stop partaking in whatever foolery they've caught you in?

"What?" I ask defensively. "Have you got something against the gays?"

Dad rolls his eyes and ignores me. "I heard about your visitor last night."

"Wow, good news travels fast."

"Your mother seems to believe your story."

"And why shouldn't she?" I glance behind him to make sure Mum isn't within hearing distance.

Dad just shakes his head. "Just promise me you're being careful."

"As careful as a fat man on thin ice," I promise, crossing my heart for emphasis.

The ride to the train station is pretty uneventful. Al stays mad the entire time and won't really speak to anyone. Lily twirls her hair and watches the city come into view through the window. I, however, chatter away nonstop, trying my best to annoy everyone as much as possible.

King's Cross seems to be exceptionally crowded this morning, and I wonder why all of these people aren't at work already and are, instead, running through a train station and acting as though they're all the most important people in the world. We grab trolleys and make the journey to Platform 9 ¾ as quickly as possible, not wanting to draw anymore attention to ourselves than we need to on the Muggle platform.

As soon as I step through the wall, I look around happily. _This _is what I've been waiting for all summer. Familiar faces are everywhere I look, and I try to figure out who to speak to first. Mum decides this for me, though, and literally pushes me over to where my cousins are. This is stupid, obviously, as I've seen these idiots nearly every day all summer, especially Rose and Hugo who both look rather unenthused and not at all thrilled to be there. There are only six of us at school this year- that's the least amount of us that have been in school at the same time ever since I've started. Louis is starting his First Year, and he looks extremely nervous and scared as he stays stuck to Aunt Fleur's hip as tightly as possible. Uncle Bill and the girls are nowhere to be seen, and I wonder where they are. Victoire, I assume, is probably somewhere laid up with Teddy enjoying having to do nothing because she's majorly up the spout. Dominique, though, could be anywhere, I've no idea. I actually haven't seen her much at all this summer, as she spent the majority of it studying French with her Aunt Gabrielle in Paris. The most glaring absence to me, of course, is Fred, my absolute number one. He graduated last year, and this is the first time I'll ever be at Hogwarts without him. (If I were a girl, I'd probably shed a tear or two right here.)

Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron are here, and they're arguing about something when we join them. This is not a surprise, of course, as they argue all the time about everything. Landon is miraculously asleep in his buggy, and I marvel at the ability of that kid to kip anywhere anytime. Hugo brightens up a bit when he sees Lily, but he seems tired and I can tell he's a bit cranky. Rose's expression is the best, though. Her lips are pushed so tightly together that they're almost invisible, and her eyes are narrowed in an evil glare.

"What's up with you?" Al asks her, obviously taking note of her expression.

"Oh, don't mind her," Aunt Hermione stops arguing with her husband long enough to jump into the conversation, "she's simply pouting like a two year old because we wouldn't stop and buy her new shoes on the way here."

Rose turns her glare to her mother and rolls her eyes. "Just stop, Mother," she snaps hatefully. "_Stop."_

It's a very good thing that she's in the middle of a crowded platform because I'm quite sure that had she been anywhere else, Rose would have found herself slapped 'round the mouth. Or maybe not, I don't know. Rose always talks like that, but she gets away with it a lot of times because her parents still think she's mental and give her a free pass as long as she attends mandatory weekly therapy sessions that cost probably more than her _and _her brother's entire magical educations put together. I'm actually not sure how crazy she actually is and how much of it is just an act used as an excuse for a smart mouth, but who am I to say? It's amusing if nothing else.

"Oh, look!" My mum breaks in, clearly in an attempt to cut some of the awkwardness that floats after Rose's snapping. "There's that poor friend of yours, James."

I look over to where her eyes are watching, and I spot Amy chatting away happily with her parents. She catches my eyes and smiles at me, but I look away quickly.

"Her father doesn't _look _like a drunk," Mum observes carefully, eyeing Amy's dad and clearly taking note of his expensive business attire.

"He's a functioning alcoholic," I say quickly, glancing around at my siblings and cousins to make sure no one throws me under the bus. "And that's her aunt," I lie immediately, not even giving my mother a chance to comment on how Amy's mum doesn't _seem _depressed. "She helps her," I explain dismissively. "You know, to deal."

Mum is eyeing me strangely, as are my aunts and uncle. Dad looks like he either wants to laugh or off himself. Or maybe he's just got gas, I don't know… All of the kids, though, have my back, even Louis who has no idea who Amy is, and even Rose who hates me. They've still got me because that's what we do. We may be at each other's throats on a personal level, but we rarely, if ever, rat each other out, and we always stick together in the face of authority and annoying gits who get on our nerves at school.

_Always._

And now that I've got my family sorted out, it's onto the ladies… I look around the platform, scoping them out. Which one is going to be Lucky Number One? It doesn't matter. Numbers two, three, four, and fifty-six will all be just as lucky…

After all, I _am_ James Potter.

--

A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I really am glad you enjoyed it! Please leave me feedback and let me know what you think of James…


	3. Albus Not Dumbledore Potter

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 3

**AL(BUS) (NOT DUMBLEDORE) POTTER**

--

My parents totally lied to me.

"_It'll be fine, Al," _they promised. _"You'll love being a Prefect! It's a really big honor."_

Oh, that's easy for them to say, seeing as how neither one of them everhad to go through this. This isn't fair. _Rose _is the one with the Prefect parents, _I'm_ not. _She _should be the one who has to suffer through all of this, not me. I should have asked Uncle Ron, _he _would have told me the truth. He beat my dad out of Prefect when they were kids- apparently defeating Voldemort isn't a feat worthy enough of the title. Uncle Ron would tell me, _"Al, it's rubbish, complete sodding rubbish. Run while you still have the chance."_

Oh, why is my life such shit?

The first Prefect meeting of the year is very likely just a tiny taste of all the crap to come. I'm sitting here listening to stupid Fiona Engleton blabber on about all the responsibilities we now have and how our first responsibility is to be a role model for all the other students. Seriously? I never once asked to be a sodding _role model! _I don't even like myself most of the time, _why _would I try to get other people to aspire to be just like me? Oh, that's right. I wouldn't.

God.

"The students of this school look to us as examples of how they should conduct themselves. The younger students especially look up to us and often model their own behavior after the behavior of their Prefects. You must always remember that someone is _always _watching and conduct yourself accordingly."

Fuck Fiona Engleton. Fuck her and all her _role model _bullshit. I hate this.

I look around and realize I'm probably the only person in the room who feels like this. There are several Sixth and Seventh Years who nod encouragingly as Fiona babbles on. They're veterans at this, and they've apparently adopted the Fiona Engleton "I'm a Prefect, Worship Me" attitude. The other Fifth Years are at least listening and paying attention. Not that I'm surprised, of course. Everyone is sitting paired together with their Housemates. The Ravenclaw fuckwits, Todd Anderson and Laura Ellis, are practically panting with excitement. They look that way in class, too, whenever they know the answer to a question and can't wait to show off. Laura hates Rose, literally _hates _her. She makes no secret of it, either, and she's always a raging bitch to Rose and anyone who happens to be friends with her. Laura's just jealous, though. She can't stand the fact Rose is so effortlessly intelligent, while she herself has to work her arse off to get the high marks that she does and constantly has to show off in an effort to make herself look smarter than she really is. Roy Paxton and Gemma Raymore are there for Hufflepuff. They're not _so _bad, I guess, but Roy used to eat his bogeys, and that's sort of an image you never get past. And then there's Chris Bates and Annabel Nott for Slytherin. Chris is pretty much the _anti-_Slytherin, so it's no surprise that he's here. He probably doesn't care if people take the piss because that's all anyone ever does where he's concerned. And Annabel… gross. She is fat and spotty and really, _really _annoying. They probably couldn't get anyone else in Slytherin to take this shit job.

And then there's Meghan.

She catches me watching her and gives me sort of a puzzled look and a half-smile before rolling her eyes playfully. God, she's pretty. I know that sounds stupid, but she really, really _is. _She doesn't seem _quite _as bored as me, but she definitely doesn't seem entirely into the whole thing, either. I realize I'm staring, and she seems to notice as well. I'm probably freaking her out.

Oh, god. I look away.

Shut _up, _Fiona Engleton. _God. _I don't know why I'm here. I really, really want to just get up and run away. I wonder if I'll get in trouble if I drop out of Prefect before I've even started. Neville- _Professor Longbottom- _will probably write home to my parents, and then Mum'll be all concerned and think I'm being bullied or on hard drugs or something stupid like that. In case you've ever wondered, it really sucks to have your godfather as a professor. Just to let you know. He always thinks he has to make sure I'm okay and insists on incessantly keeping my parents up to date if he thinks something's wrong. It's really, _really _annoying.

Almost as annoying as Fiona Engleton's voice.

"Albus, is that alright with you?"

_What? _I look up and see that Fiona is speaking to me. Apparently she has given me some sort of instructions or something, but, most importantly, she has called me Albus. And okay, _really?_

"It's Al, thanks," I mutter, looking up at her from where I'm sitting. "And, um, _what?"_

Fiona is annoyed, I can tell. Someone snickers, and I'm nearly one-hundred percent sure that it's Meghan, at least I hope it is. Fiona frowns, and I can tell that she wants to tell me off for not paying attention. But, of course, she doesn't. I'm sure if it were anyone else, she'd have no problem whatsoever letting them have it. But she's probably afraid I'll tell my dad or something and then Harry Potter will be mad at her and ruin her chances at ever having a successful career or even remotely enjoyable life. Yeah, lots of people think my father controls every aspect of the universe.

"Sorry, _Al," _she corrects herself, clearly biting her tongue as she straightens up in embarrassment. "I was simply asking if you would be alright with the Tuesday night shifts, as I know you have Quidditch practice and other things that often run late."

I shrug. "Whatever."

Fiona nods and scribbles something down into her notebook. "Okay, _Al _and Meghan will have Tuesdays."

She doesn't need to keep emphasizing my name. It's starting to get annoying. I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, I wasn't even trying to be a jerk. I just really, really hate when people call me Albus. It's dumb, I know, but I always feel like they're comparing me to Albus Dumbledore when they do that, and trust me, I am definitely _not _Albus Dumbledore. I wish my parents had named me something normal like John or Mark. Albus Severus is, quite possibly, _the _worst name of anyone in the entire history of the world. And yes, I have to live with it. Of course, I know the reason they didn't name me John or Mark is because they don't know any dead people named John or Mark. My siblings and I are all named after dead people- really important dead people at that. James Potter, Sirius Black, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Lily Potter… and Luna Lovegood. Okay, so Luna's not dead, but she's crazy enough to make up for it.

It's just stupid.

If I ever have children, I'm definitely naming them John and Mark. Period. There _are _no other options.

The meeting finally ends after what seems like a million years, and everyone breaks off on their own to return to their Common Rooms. Meghan waits for me while I tie up the laces on my shoes that have come undone while we've been listening to the newly-appointed Head Girl and Head Boy give us endless instructions.

"Hurry up, _Albus," _she jokes, and I give her the best fake glare I can manage. She just laughs. Albus actually doesn't sound so bad coming out of her mouth…

We walk down the corridor in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. We talk about stupid things and make jokes about Fiona and the whole Prefect thing in general.

"At least we get out of class sometimes," she says optimistically, smiling that perfect smile of hers.

Shit. Focus, Potter. No, not on her arse.

Fuck.

"Er, yeah," I stutter, very aware of the fact that I sound like an idiot.

"Er, _yeah," _she mocks me playfully, shoving my shoulder with her own. Oh, god, please don't touch me. "You're being awfully strange today, Potter."

I'm being strange. Fan-fucking-tastic. Doesn't she realize that I'm sweating to death and walking in a very awkward sort of way to try and hide the fact that she's definitely making me… nervous? I hate this. It's _so _embarrassing. Damn, damn, triple _damn._

I bet James never felt this weird around a girl.

Of course, by the time James my age, he'd already shagged half the girls in his year. Me, on the other hand… well, I haven't shagged anyone. And my experience with girls equals a whopping two kisses- one with Mary Vandiver who was unfortunate enough to be caught under the mistletoe with me last year at a very inopportune moment, and one with Betsy Jones that was pretty much voluntary on the Common Room sofa last spring. That one even had a bit of tongue- not that I knew what to do with it, of course… And Betsy never spoke to me again after that, except to tell me once at dinner that I had spinach in my teeth.

God, I'm such a loser.

Trying my best to hide the awkwardness, I clear my throat and pick up my speed a bit. "I'm just out of it," I lie, walking ahead of her a little so that I don't have to look at her arse. "Really tired, you know?"

Yeah, we'll see how easily she buys _that _one…

My dormitory is nearly empty when I get back to it. The only person around is Mike Everett who is lying on his bed doing absolutely nothing.

"What are you doing?" I ask, slipping into the room and undoing the school tie I've been forced to wear all day. We had our first day of classes today, and I remembered very immediately this morning why I hate our uniforms. Blasted ties.

"I'm meditating."

Mike is very… strange. He's Muggleborn, and his parents are what he calls "hippies." He tried to explain it to me once, but I didn't really understand. I think the gist of it pretty much is that they don't eat meat and they love to play the guitar. Or you know, that's the main part of it anyway. Mike's okay, he's one of those people who is just _so _out there that it works to their advantage and actually makes them kind of popular.

I don't bother to ask why. I finish undoing my tie and drape it around the knob of my dresser. I'm the worst for losing ties. It drives my mum insane because she constantly has to buy new ones and send them to me. I don't know what happens to them, I think I subconsciously lose them on purpose because I hate them so much. Ties are, without question, the absolute _bane _of my existence. I loosen my collar and kick out of my school shoes. It's still sort of early, only around 7:30, definitely too early to go to bed.

"Where is everyone?" I ask Mike, switching to trainers and shoving the other shoes under the edge of my bed.

Mike sighs loudly and sits up. He's annoyed, I can tell. I remember suddenly that he was meditating and wonder how I forgot so quickly. I'm about to apologize, but he goes ahead and answers my question. "I guess they're downstairs. Either that or they're somewhere else."

Well, thanks _so _much.

I get up, not wanting to bother Mike anymore than I already have, as it's very clear he doesn't want to chitchat. I mutter thanks (for nothing) and head down to the Common Room. I just came through there, but I didn't really pay attention to anyone because I was so focused on getting out of the tie and the shoes. And getting away from Meghan, of course. I'm definitely not capable of being alone with her and not humiliating myself.

It's really crowded down here, I guess everyone is still catching up from summer. After a bit of straining, I finally spot my friends. They're over by the fire and have somehow managed to grab the best couch. I shove my way through a group of Third Years who refuse to move even an inch for me. Hugo's one of them, and I glare at him as I have to forcefully push through him and some kid called Hank. He doesn't seem too terribly fazed.

Finally, I reach my friends, and they all glance up at my at my arrival. All of my roommates (except Mike) are down here, and most of the Fifth Year girls are here, too. Everyone is spread out either on the sofa or on the rug in front of it. There isn't any room left on the sofa, so I join the others on the rug. I actually sit beside Rose, though I'm not sure why a second later when she lays into me.

"So," she says with fake enthusiasm, "how was your meeting? Did you make friends with all the other Prefects?"

Sometimes I have to remember why I like Rose. She is really mean sometimes, though she's usually nicer to me than she is to anyone else. Still, though, she has her moments, and she can turn pretty evil when she wants to. I think it's gotten worse as we get older because now she does it intentionally instead of just naturally like she used to when we were kids. But still, Rose is the only person in the entire world who I trust completely, and she's the only person who I don't keep any secrets from. And really, she's not mean to me _that _often.

"It was boring," I mutter, answering her question as everyone else snickers. "And I'm pretty sure Fiona Engleton won't ever stop talking until the day she dies."

"Probably not even then," says a voice behind me. I look around to see that Meghan has come down as well. She sits on Rose's other side and rolls her eyes dramatically. "She'll probably be like Binns and just conveniently not notice she's kicked it just so she can keep boring other people to death."

Meghan's changed clothes completely, unlike me who just changed shoes and lost my tie. She's put on jeans and a jersey and tied her hair back. She's even pretty dressed like that. I really love her hair like that, but it's also really nice when she lets it loose.

Oh, damn. I'm going to turn into a stalker soon.

Luckily, Meghan doesn't notice me staring this time, and the conversation has already moved away from the Prefect nightmare. Instead, everyone is talking about Justin Zabini and Susannah Hending who've apparently started dating over the summer. Susie is noticeably missing from the group, which is unusual as the Gryffindor girls in my year are nearly always together and very rarely apart from each other. It's something of an annoyance, especially when you want to get one of them on their own. Not that I ever do, want to, I mean… except for Rose sometimes, but that doesn't count.

Us boys are a bit different. We're pretty good mates, and none of us hate each other or even really fight with each other (at least not for more than a few days at a time), but we're able to survive without each other if we need to. Not like the girls, of course, who apparently can't shit without each other's help, as I've never seen any of them ever go to the loo alone. I asked Rose about that once, and she told me that what goes on in the girls' bathroom is none of my business. I don't know if she was being serious or not…

Speaking of Rose, I notice that Allen Tanner is staring at her. It's not secret that he's a bit obsessed with her, but I sort of thought he was over it, as she made a big scene of telling him that she didn't like him at the end of last term. Maybe he's just doing it out of habit now. Rose doesn't seem to notice, as she and Meghan are giggling with Elisabeth over something now that the boys apparently aren't privy to. Allen is going to come to me later tonight and ask me if Rose talked to any boys over the summer. He is going to ask me if maybe she's talked about him or mentioned him or told me that she's suddenly realized she's in love with him.

And the answer is going to be no, just like it _always _is.

Rose doesn't like Allen, and she's never going to like Allen. He is way too whiney for her, way too strange, and _way _too, well, namby pamby. Rose is the type of girl who only likes boys who fight with her, and Allen would definitely never, _ever _fight with her. He would lick her shoes clean if she asked him to, and that's something she hates. She _likes _conflict, and she'd never want to be with someone who couldn't guarantee her some knock-down drag outs.

Allen catches me watching him watch my cousin and looks startled and a bit nervous, like he really thinks I'm going to call him out or something. Obviously I don't. I don't want to embarrass him, Rose will do plenty of that herself. And I'm a lot nicer than she is.

The night carries on with lots of talking and random gossip. It seems as if everyone has exciting stories from the summer that they want to share. I don't, though. The most exciting thing that happened to me all summer was degnoming my grandmother's garden. Okay, so obviously that's a bit of an exaggeration, but there really wasn't anything worth sharing. I hope nobody notices that I'm even more quiet than usual… but, of course, I really have shit luck.

"So, nothing interested happened with you, Al?" It's Meghan. She is smiling at me in that really beautiful way of hers, and I can't help but study her mouth for probably a split second too long before snapping out of the momentary daze.

"Not really," I reply, shrugging.

Rose looks at me like I'm insane before rolling her eyes and saying, "Oh, no, you just traveled all over Asia for a month…"

This isn't true. I didn't travel _all _over Asia. We just went to three countries, and Rose is full of shit because she easily could have come along if she hadn't got herself in trouble the day before we left. And it wasn't even all that interesting anyway. I was stuck with James complaining about being bored all the time and Lily constantly sulking because it was much harder to get quick responses from her friends when she was that far from home. And my dad, of course, spent way more time worrying about what was going on at work than what was happening on our family's holiday, which naturally made my mum mad and caused more than a few arguments. So yes, that was the highlight of my lovely summer hols.

Happy, Rose?

"Oh, yeah, I forgot you were going to Asia!" It's Elisabeth who's spoken up now. She looks genuinely interested, and I fidget around nervously.

Fuck, I _hate _being the center of attention, even when it's just my friends around.

"It was okay," I answer, shrugging again. "Nothing mind blowing or anything."

"The girls were hot, weren't they?" Leave it to David Jordan to be most concerned with the way the Asian girls looked. Truthfully, they _were _quite fit, but it's not as if I talked to any of them or anything. And not just because of the language barrier, either- I'm really complete _crap _at talking with girls.

"You're such a pig." Elisabeth wrinkles her nose at him in disgust. Everyone else knows that she's criticizing him mostly because she wants to pretend as if she hates him, even though everyone knows that's a lie. David and Elisabeth went out for nearly all of Fourth Year, but they had a major breakup right before exams at the end of last term because Elisabeth claimed David was immature and he said she was bossy and stuck up. Honestly, both of these statements are true, but obviously I'm not about to tell either of _them _that, and I never will.

"And you're such a self-centered bitch."

Whoa.

Everyone shuts up after David snaps back at Elisabeth, and a really awkward sort of tension hovers over us uneasily. Elisabeth glares at him, and I won't be surprised if she whips out her wand and hexes him right here. But she doesn't. Instead, she flips her long dark hair over her shoulder and shoves her nose just a bit higher into the air. "Come on," she says to Rose and Meghan, completely ignoring David and all the rest of us guys.

The other girls get up obediently and prepare to head upstairs for bed. It actually is sort of late, so I imagine we'll all be following suit pretty shortly. Meghan awkwardly whispers, "Night!" as she quickly hurries up the dormitory stairs after Elisabeth. Her arse really _does _look nice in those jeans. Oh, _fuck, _why am I such a pervert? Rose catches me looking and kicks at my knee with her foot pointedly. I snap out of my perversion and look up at her. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, and I know I'm turning bright red. I _really _hope no one else notices. Rose offers me her hand, and I let her pull me up to a standing position. She wants to tell me something, I can tell, so I follow her over toward the stairwell and slip into the corner with her.

I wait patiently for her to tell me whatever it is that she has to say, and she finally takes a deep breath and makes her statement. "I think I'm in lust with David."

Okay, _what? _

I stare at Rose like she's lost her mind because _clearly _she's lost her mind! She's in _lust? _With _David? _Oh, for fuck's sake, why the _hell _do all of my relatives have to be nutters?

"I'm sorry, _what?" _I ask for clarification, praying that I've heard wrong or misunderstood.

"I'm in lust with David," she repeats, and I'm horrified to realize that she's being completely serious. "But you can't tell anyone!" she adds quickly, shooting me a very pointed sort of look.

"But.. but _why?" _I can't even _begin _to imagine why she's in lust with David. I mean, apparently he's quite fit or something since lots of girls seem to be attracted to him, but he's _David. _And Elisabeth is pretty much Rose's best friend! Oh, _this _should end well…

"I don't know," she hisses quickly, glancing around to make sure no one is eavesdropping on us. "I just think he's so cute now, and he's not with Lissy anymore, so technically he _is _fair game…"

"She'll murder you," I say seriously. "She will murder you in your sleep."

Rose rolls her eyes. "Oh, please. She'll get over it. And anyway, she says she absolutely hates him now, so she probably won't even care."

Now I roll _my _eyes. "And you know that's a complete load of bollocks," I accuse honestly. "Rose, this is _not _a good idea."

"Oh, what do you know anyway?" she snaps. Crossing her arms, she swings her head so that a few random curls go flying away from her face. "You can't even get up the balls to talk to Meghan for more than two minutes without running away like a little bitch."

See? I told you she could be evil. The worst part, though, is that she's right.

Rose 1/Al 0.

"You shouldn't even bother anyway," she goes on, obviously not caring that she's breaking my heart as she speaks. "She's completely in lust with JD."

What _is _it with girls and saying they're in lust? They didn't use to do this, or maybe I just didn't notice. But I _swear _it's a relatively new expression- at least a relatively new expression that sees everyday teenage usage.

I truly, truly _hate _teenage girls.

Later that night, back in my dormitory, I find myself listening to David and JD prattle on about some model in one of JD's magazines. I'm at my bed trying, and failing, to compose a letter to my parents letting them know that we all made it to Hogwarts safely and that everything is fine so far. Rose stomped off to bed after letting me know that two of my roommates were going to be the center of much well-planned girl drama, and now I'm forced to listen to their stupid conversation. They keep talking about the model's tits, and I try very hard to tell myself that I don't care about tits and that sort of thing and that there is much more to a girl than her body.

"Hey, Al, come check this out!"

I'm over at JD's bed before I even realize I've moved. _Damn. _Note to self: stop being such a goddamn pervert, Potter. But yes, in case you're wondering, she does happen to have a perfectly nice set of tits.

I'm actually glad to be distracted by the naked girl because it helps me forget about wanting to punch JD. Not that I'd be extremely successful, of course, as he's quite a bit larger than I am and could probably knock me out with his thumb. But honestly, why would Meghan be interested in _him? _He's as bad as David is when it comes to being rude and disrespecting girls and all that sort of stuff…

Of course, I realize right away that I'm standing between them looking at the _exact _same magazine they are.

So, yes, I, Albus Severus Potter, am officially a member of the Male Sexist Perverted Teenage Boy Wankers Club.

Well, _fuck._

--

A/N: These chapters are flowing pretty easily and quickly now, and they're all surprisingly easy to pinpoint and write. Thanks to everyone who has already reviewed, I really, really appreciate it!


	4. Rose, and Yes, I Know the Answer

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 4

**ROSE, AND YES, I KNOW THE ANSWER**

--

Potions.

If I've never mentioned it, I guess now's a good a time as ever… I _hate _Potions.

It's not that it's difficult or anything like that. It's not even that I particularly hate the subject, though it's definitely not my favorite…

It's that I hate the teacher.

Professor Montague.

I hate that man. Completely, totally _hate _him. He's head of Slytherin House and always, _always _favors them. I mean, _blatant _favoritism. He hates Gryffindor, of course, and he hates me most of all. He makes no secret of it, either, and it's not as if I can do anything about it because of that time last year when I made the remark about him not getting laid if he was the last wizard in Oz… Now if I'm so much as remotely short with him, he threatens to send me to Neville who has been forced by my parents to swear that he'll let them know if I get in any sort of trouble at all. Sometimes I _really_ wish he didn't work here.

Montague's blathering on about the uses of Buntsmeal in healing potions, and I honestly _am _trying to pay attention. I'm distracted, though. David and Elisabeth are both seated at the table in front of me and are passing notes via Meghan who's sitting between them. I want to know what that note says. He better not be thinking about going back out with her. She's self-centered and bossy, he said so himself! I mean, yes, actually she _is _my best mate, but that doesn't mean it's not true.

I want to intercept the note-passing and Summon the parchment to me so that I can read exactly what they're saying. Neither one seems particularly upset, but they are scribbling away rather quickly and definitely not paying one bit of attention to Professor Montague at all. David grabbed my seat at the table with Meg and Lissy, so I'm being forced to sit back here with Al and JD who are also distracted. JD is distracted by the magazine he's got stuffed between the pages of his Potions text, and Al is distracted by the same scene as me. Of course, he's staring at Meghan and watching intently as she swipes the note from one person and quickly sends it to the next and then repeats. Over and over and over… He's got this dazed sort of look on his face, and I'm pretty sure he might start drooling at any moment. I don't even _want _to know what he's thinking about as he stares at her with those glazed over sort of eyes. He's _so _obvious. It's pathetic.

Trying to save him a bit of face, I reach under the table and pinch his leg. He jumps and hisses before looking at me as if I've gone crazy. He glares at me, and his eyes narrow in an angry unspoken exclamation. Of course, his sudden movement has drawn the attention of our teacher, and Montague is stalking back to us before I can even blink.

"_What _is all this commotion?" he demands sharply. No one says anything, and this apparently makes him angrier because he slams his hand down onto the desk and glares at both of us in turn before settling on Al. "_Potter!" _he hisses evilly. "Explain to me the difference between Buntsmeal and Agracy as they relate to healing potions!"

Al has no idea. This much is obvious by the way his forehead wrinkles in confusion at the mere question. "Uhh…" he starts stuttering nervously. "I think… er, I…"

"Don't know, do you?" Montague snaps, glaring at him again. "Too busy ogling the girls in front of you to pay attention to your lesson, _are you?" _

Al turns bright red, and everyone has turned around to watch, of course. He starts fidgeting in his seat, and I can tell he's humiliated and wants to die. Montague has it out for him, too, and I'm not _completely _positive, but I'm pretty sure it has to do with a billion year old Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin when Uncle Harry was playing Seeker. It's stupid, actually, is what it is. And poor Al can't even say anything back. He just looks down and tries to avoid the looks of all our classmates as his face grows darker and darker.

Montague, of course, is smirking. He loves embarrassing people, especially people he hates. He's just so _evil._

"The difference," I break in, drawing the attention away from my cousin, 'is that Buntsmeal is used to fight infections, while Agracy can only be successful against viruses. Even then, Agracy only has about a ten percent chance of actually attacking the appropriate virus and destroying it."

Montague's smirk fades, and his eyes narrow as all of his attention is now directed at me. "I don't believe I asked you, Miss Weasley," he says lowly, and I know he's really mad. "Not that that's ever stopped you running your mouth and being an insufferable know-it-all in the past, of course, so I don't know why I'm surprised that you continue to insist on speaking out of turn and inappropriately." I twist my fingers together under the desk, trying desperately to keep them as far away from my wand as possible. "Not only that, though, but your answer isn't even correct." _Do what?! _"Agracy is actually _quite _successful at fighting viruses. It has an almost perfect success rate."

He's so wrong. _So, so wrong. _I take a deep breath and shake my head as calmly as possible. "No, sir," I reply politely (okay, so it's fake, crucify me…). "Agracy only has a high success rate when it's coupled with Amendiar, and you didn't ask anything about Amendiar. You simply asked the difference between Buntsmeal and Agracy, and Agracy on its own is rather crap at getting much of anything done, if you'll excuse my expression."

The whole room is silent, and I know everyone is waiting on the explosion. I feel JD kick me under the table, clearly trying to get me to shut up before I end up in a lot more trouble than I care to be in. Montague is just staring at me, and he doesn't speak for a long moment until…

"Are you insinuating, _Miss Weasley, _that you have more knowledge of my subject than I myself do?"

"Well, technically speaking, for something to be considered your subject, you'd have to be one of the founders of research in the area or, at the very least, have made considerable contributions to the advancement. And seeing as you're simply a professor, you can't really claim Potions to be _your subject. _Just speaking technically, of course."

I don't know why I do this. Honestly. I know while I'm speaking that I'm being really, really stupid and about to end up in horrible, horrible trouble, but I just can't let it go. I don't appreciate when teachers don't know what they're talking about or when they try to act as if they're more important than they really are. Everyone knows that the only reason Montague even got this job was because the old Potions professor decided to move to Romania on the spur of the moment and the one before that kicked it at the hands of Voldemort. Hogwarts was desperate, and Montague was available. Period.

Everyone in the class is completely silent. In fact, I'm quite sure that you could hear a feather drop right at the moment. All of my friends look absolutely terrified, though I know they're all secretly cheering me, too. Even the Slytherins seem to be on my side, and I glance over to their side of the room where they're all straining their necks to turn and see what's going to happen. As much as Montague favors them, there are very few Slytherins who actually enjoy him, and they always make jokes about him behind his back and talk about how much they hate his class. Scorpius Malfoy is literally turned around backwards in his seat, and when I catch his eye, he turns back around so quickly that I can barely register his moving at all.

I'm not nervous. I know I should be, but I'm not. I simply sit and wait for him to explode. I've already done it, so there's no point in regretting it now. I'm in this far, I might as well keep going, right?

Finally, Montague takes a very deep breath and addresses me in an eerily calm and low voice. "Perhaps you would care to explain exactly _why _you think you the right to speak to authority figures in such disrespectful ways, Miss Weasley? Do you imagine that you are above every rule simply because of who your parents are?"

"No," I reply snidely because now I'm _really _mad. He should know better than to pull that card with me, and if he doesn't he's about to find out. "I just think that you should stop trying to make people look foolish just because _you _don't know enough about _your own _subject to teach it properly. You shouldn't be allowed to treat people that way and humiliate them if they don't know the answers when it's _your _job to teach them!"

"Fifty points from Gryffindor!" Montague roars, and I hear groans and protests all around me.

"_Fifty?!" _David pipes up. "But Professor, that's not-"

"Would you like to make it a hundred?" Montague snaps, spinning around to face David and glare at him. David, for what it's worth, shuts up, but it's obviously that he's really mad. I hope he's mad at Montague and not at me, but it's probably a bit of both… "And _you, _Miss Weasley," Montague goes on, turning back to me icily, "will remove yourself from this classroom immediately! I will not tolerate such insubordination and disrespect."

I don't even bother arguing. I stand up and start packing up my things. Everyone is still quiet, and I can feel them all watching me. I glance down at Al who looks at me sort of sideways. He's still bright red, and I know he's still embarrassed. He's also, of course, thinking exactly what I'm thinking.

My mother is going to _kill _me.

After leaving the dungeons, I decide to go straight to Neville. He has the mornings off on Tuesdays, so I figure there's a good chance that he's in his office. It's better if I get to him first, I figure, than if Montague bombards him and twists the story all around before I have a chance to defend myself.

When I get back to Gryffindor Tower, the Common Room's completely deserted. Not surprising, of course, since everyone is _supposed _to be in class. The Head's office is just off the main entrance, and the door's open. Neville's in, just like I figured. Despite the door being open, I take a deep breath and knock gently on the frame. He turns around at the noise and, unsurprisingly, looks shocked to see me.

"Rose!" He stands up from his desk and waves me in. "What's wrong?"

Okay, Rose, play it up.

I put on my best devastated face and look at him as pitifully as possible. "I got kicked out of class…"

Neville doesn't say anything at first. He just looks at me, and I can tell he's really disappointed. It does actually make me feel sort of bad, but I can't waste time feeling guilty when I need to be raking in the sympathy. Finally, he asks me what happened.

"I don't know!" I blurt out, forcing my voice to waver as though I'm on the edge of tears. "Professor Montague was just being so _mean, _and he was trying to embarrass Al! He was being so _cruel, _and all because Al didn't know the answer to one stupid question when Montague himself didn't even know the answer!"

Neville looks concerned. I know I pulled the right card right away. Al is his godson, and he's a bit (_very_) overprotective of him.

"And how did that get you kicked out of class?"

I shake my head as though I can't explain. "I couldn't just sit there and let Al get humiliated, Neville!" I cry. He doesn't admonish me for the Neville thing. We're still not used to calling him Professor Longbottom, but he usually only corrects us if we're in class or in front of other people. If it's just me or my cousins, he usually lets it slide. "Al's really sensitive, you know," I go on quickly. "And he was really upset and getting really embarrassed! And anyway, all I did was answer the question he missed."

Neville raises his eyebrows at me. He doesn't buy _that, _I can tell. Oh well, I'm going with it.

"And then he tried to correct me and tell me that my answer was wrong, but it really wasn't. I really knew the answer, _he _was the one who was wrong! And then he kicked me out because I guess he was mad that I knew more about it than he did!"

Neville sits back down. He closes his eyes for a brief second before opening them and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk. "Sit down, Rose," he says calmly. I do as he says and wait patiently for him to carry on. It takes him a second to get his words together, but then he finally manages to speak. "I know that you were probably really angry watching your cousin get picked on. And I know that Professor Montague has a habit of putting people on the spot and then trying to belittle them." He sighs and shakes his head a bit. "And I _know _that you are very smart and know lots of things that other people don't, even things that some of your teachers don't… but Rose, you _have _to learn when to point these things out and when to let them go."

"But-"

He shakes his head and cuts me off before I even get a word in. "Pointing out Professor Montague's lack of knowledge was very disrespectful. I don't care how wrong he might have been, he's still a teacher and you're still a student."

"But he _was _wrong!" I protest.

"You shouldn't point that out, especially not in front of your classmates."

"But that's not fair to anyone," I go on. I'm not giving up on this one. "If he teaches it wrong, then everyone's going to learn it wrong! And how is that right for anyone?!"

"Rose." He doesn't say anything else. I wonder if he's aware that I know my own name. I look at him, and he stares right back at me. He's not backing down.

"Please don't tell my parents," I say quietly. I try to sound as pitiful as possible so that he'll have sympathy for me and spare me the impending doom. He just continues to look at me, and I know that means he thinks he has no choice. After all, he has express instructions to tell them about every single infraction, no matter how minor or major. He looks a tiny bit conflicted, but I know his loyalties lie with my parents and not with me. "Mum will _kill _me…"

"Rose," he breaks in, and he sounds a bit like he feels sorry for me, "your mother, of _all _people, knows what it's like to know more than everyone else around her. She isn't going to _kill _you."

See, here's the thing. Neville thinks of my mum as this really nice girl who always helped him with his homework and defended him when people picked on him. He always talks about her with something close to hero worship, and I often wonder if he used to, or maybe even still does, have something of a crush on her. He doesn't know how she _really _is, though. He doesn't know how awful she can be when she's really angry, and trust me, she's going to _be _really angry when she finds out about this little Potions mishap.

"I'm going to talk to Professor Montague," Neville says. "After that, I'll decide whether or not to contact your parents."

He's full of shit, of course. He is going to tell them, he might as well just come out and say it. Nothing Montague says is going to change that one way or the other. Neville's already promised my parents.

Did I mention that sometimes I really _hate _that he works here?

Later that day, I find myself at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Supper's getting started, and people are starting to file in rapidly. Meghan and Lissy are with me, and we're talking mindlessly about random things. None of the boys have made it yet, and Susie is over at the Slytherin table sitting with Justin. They are nauseating to watch. His housemates seem to agree, as Justin and Susie are being met with many looks of Slytherin disdain. Not that they notice, of course, as they're currently cuddled together and whispering in each other's ears in what they apparently think is a sickeningly sweet way. I don't know about sweet, but it's certainly sickening. I look up and down their table at all the various looks of disgust, and I happen to catch Scorpius's eye directly. I almost smile, but, for the second time today, he glances away quickly and turns his back to me.

He's so odd.

Anyway… "So!" I strike up a brand new conversation with my friends, and they both look at me. "What was that note about that you and David were passing in Potions?" Nothing like directness, eh?

Lissy rolls her eyes and shakes her head darkly. "He's trying to get back with me."

What? No. David is _not _trying to get back with Elisabeth. They hate each other now. He just called her a bitch like three nights ago!

"Really?" I ask, faking my voice into normalcy. "What did you say?"

"I told him to go fuck himself," she says firmly, nodding her head for emphasis. "He's _such_ an arsehole."

"What she _really _said," Meg breaks in, rolling her eyes at Lissy and leaning forward to block her from my view, "was along the lines of… _oh, David! You ripped my heart out, and I don't know how I could ever trust you after the horrible things you've said! I never knew I could ever hurt like this!" _She speaks in a really dramatic voice and holds the back of her hand to her forehead in exaggeration.

"I did not!" Lissy squeals, yanking Meg back and leaning forward once again. "She is _such _a liar!"

All of us laugh. Lissy and Meg laugh because they're both being idiots. I laugh because if I don't, they'll ask me what's wrong, and then I might blurt out that I'm lusting after David. I know better than to do that just yet. I need to give it a bit of time, let Elisabeth get completely over him so that she won't care. Not that she has any right to anyway, of course, seeing as how she's the one who dumped him after all. But you know how girls are.

I don't even notice the spot across from us filling up until I hear a familiar voice say, "Hello, cousin!"

Ugh. James.

"Go away," I say immediately, looking straight at him. He's got a couple of his mates with him, and I realize how much I hate anyone who would actually be _friends _with this prat.

James, of course, ignores my order and carries right on, reaching for a plate and filling it with some of everything from the table. He's such a pig. "I heard a rumor that _you," _he looks up at me from under the fringe in his eyes and attempts to swing it out of the way, "got kicked out of Potions this morning. Is that correct?"

"Yes, James," I say irritably, "that's correct. So welcome to eight hours ago."

"Haven't you learned by now that your attitude gets you into trouble?" James is being facetious, his attitude is as bad, and maybe even worse, than mine. I just roll my eyes at him, but Meghan apparently doesn't get the irony and breaks in on what she assumes is my behalf.

"For your information, she was sticking up for your brother!"

Shit.

I turn an exasperated look on her, and she looks at me all confused until a second later when James bursts into laughter, quickly followed by his mates who all guffaw at this part of the story. I glare at all of them and say, "Shut up!"

James clearly cannot control his laughter and continues to snicker even as he says, "Oh, that's so sweet of you, Rosie! To stick up for poor Al and take up for him!"

"I didn't!" I say angrily, glaring at Meghan for a brief second before whipping my head back over to face James. "All I did was answer a question for him. I wasn't _sticking up for him!"_

This is a lie, of course, because that's exactly what I was doing. But James will take the piss out of Al for a month if he thinks that's the reason I got in trouble. He'll accuse Al of needing a girl to fight his battles for him and a whole bunch of other bollocks that I can imagine a bit too easily. Not only that, of course, but the fact that it was _Meghan _who pointed all of that out is even worse, as James _knows _about Al's not-so-secret lust of Meghan and can't be trusted at all to keep that quiet.

"Aww!" James grins with fake sweetness. "You're such a good girl, Rosie! Taking care of little Al like that!"

I kick him. _Hard. _His fake smile fades, and he glares at me as he grabs at his shin.

"Shut _up," _I tell him seriously.

I don't wait around for him to call me a bitch or whatever else he's bound to come up with. I find that I'm very done with dinner and stand up to leave. Meghan and Elisabeth both look at me, and I can tell that they're not _quite _as done. _Fine. _Traitors. I leave them with the group of Seventh Year prats and walk straight over to the Slytherin table. If Meg and Lissy won't walk back to Gryffindor with me, I'll just make Susie.

All the Slytherins look at me as I approach their table, and I stand behind Susie expectantly. She looks back at me and smiles. "What's up?" she asks, and I hear that her voice sounds different. Oh, _great. _She's one of _those _girls- one of those girls who uses a different voice and speaks differently around the boy that she likes. I _hate _those girls.

"Walk back with me," I say, ignoring the fact that she's gone all teenage girl on me.

She hesitates and looks back toward the Gryffindor table where Meghan and Elisabeth are now _laughing _with James and his minions. Susannah better _not _leave me hanging here, not after she's all but _abandoned _us for the Slytherins anyway. She's already treading on thin ice, and if she doesn't get up right now and walk back to the dorm with me, she'll be as good as completely out.

I wait. And wait… and _wait. _

Finally, Susie twists nervously and offers me what I guess is supposed to be an apologetic smile. "I already made plans to study with Justin after dinner," she says quietly.

"Oh, _fine!" _I spit out, glaring at her before spinning on the spot and stomping away angrily.

I have no friends. They're all traitorous bitches, and I hate them all. _Ugh._

I pass Mike, JD, and Allen on the way out of the Great Hall, and they all look at me puzzledly. I don't know where Al and David are, but I hope they stay far away from dinner for their own sakes.

"What's wrong, Rose?" It's Allen who asks, and I have to resist the urge to hex him.

"Nothing!" I snap, narrowing my eyes at him and then looking at JD and Mike with the same glare.

They all smartly move away slowly and creep into the Great Hall without anymore questions. I go the other way, down the main corridor and in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. I don't know what I'm going to do when I get there, but I think it will probably have something to do with turning all of my roommates' make-up kits into flesh-eating liquids.

I'm walking so quickly and am so caught up in my anger that I don't even realize someone has been following me until said someone catches up. I look over when I feel someone fall into step beside me. It's Scorpius Malfoy.

"Hey!" he says, and I can tell he feels weird and is trying to appear as normal and nonchalant as possible. I look at him oddly, which I'm sure doesn't make him feel anymore relaxed, but at least I stop walking.

"Hey," I mutter, raising my eyebrows in question.

"You dropped this," he finally says, holding up what I recognize to be the ribbon that was tied in my hair that morning. I definitely _didn't _wear it to dinner. "In Potions," he goes on, shrugging. "This morning, I mean. It was by your table after class was done."

I take the ribbon carefully and quietly say, "Thanks…"

He shrugs as if it's nothing, and I wonder what he wants. Surely he could have just given me the ribbon the next time we had class together or, even more easily, given it to Susie at dinner. Scorpius is weird. Not the _weirdest, _but he's definitely not the most normal, either. He's usually very quiet, and no one really ever hears anything about him except for during Quidditch.

"Yeah," he says uneasily (I have no idea what he's answering or agreeing with…). He looks like he's suddenly regretting following me, and I wonder what the hell he really wants. "So, that was cool this morning," he goes on nervously. "The way you told Montague off, I mean."

I don't know what grudge Scorpius can have with Montague. He's probably his favorite student, due, I'm sure, to the fact that Scorpius's dad buys the entire Slytherin Quidditch team brand new brooms every single season. Still, though, I shrug my own shoulders. "Well, he shouldn't be such a prick."

Scorpius smiles and sort of nods. "Yeah, he's evil when he wants to be."

And then nothing.

We stand there awkwardly looking at each other, and I don't know whether to be frightened or feel bad for the poor kid. He's probably even shyer than Al, and apparently that can be tortuous. I don't know _why _he's like that, seeing as how he's quite cute and could probably be fairly popular if he ever had the desire. But he doesn't seem to have that desire, and I wonder why.

"So, thanks," I say finally, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. I hold up the ribbon in explanation. "For picking this up."

He nods and looks down at the floor nervously. "Er, yeah. No problem."

I wait for a second to see if he's going to say anything else, but, of course, he doesn't. He's so _weird._

"So, see you," I say, sparing him anymore embarrassment, as it's clear that he's really regretting ever following me out here.

He nods again and mutters, "See you."

I walk away as quickly as possible.

Yeah, this day probably can't get any weirder.

--

A/N: There are more chapters than just Rose, Al, and James, but they won't go in any particular order. It just felt like the right time to get back to Rose…

Thanks to everyone who is reviewing, and trust me, I _know _that the kids are annoying and don't seem to have many redeeming qualities right now. However, they're all teenagers who probably all feel entitled to a certain extent, so they definitely aren't meant to be all sunshine and lollipops. Hopefully they're at least a little amusing so that you don't hate them _completely!_

Thanks again, and please review!


	5. Lily, Not Lils

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 5

**LILY… NOT LILS**

--

My mum grew up with six older brothers.

She tells me that two is nothing and that if she can survive with six, I can certainly survive with two. She also tells me how poor they were and how everything they had to wear was always homemade or handed down (though not so much to her, as she'd have looked pretty stupid wearing her brothers' things). She always says, _"Lily, you have so much, and there are lots of people in the world who could only _hope _to have a portion of the things you've got. You oughtn't be so selfish." _

I think she's full of crap, obviously, since I don't really think I've got that much at all.

I mean, sure, I do have lots of clothes, and we live in a pretty nice house and have plenty of food and all that sort of thing… but it's not like I have _everything _in the world that I want like Tricia Panabaker does, she has more shoes than there are days in the month and _always _has a new handbag to carry every single week. And it's not fair, really, because I _know _we've got a lot of money and could easily afford for me to have new handbags all the time. It's just that my parents insist on "not spoiling" us.

I think it's a load of shit personally.

James always agrees with me on that. At least that's one thing. He always tells Mum and Dad that if they really cared about us, they'd let us have this or that, and Mum always says the proof that she really cares about him is the fact that he's still alive because anyone who didn't have real, true care for him would have surely killed him about sixteen years ago.

She's probably right, of course. James _is _the most insufferable prat I've ever met in my entire life. The only reason I haven't killed him yet is because I'd probably be grounded for a month or something, and I really, _really _hate being grounded. Not that it happens often, of course, as I'm pretty good at getting myself out of trouble. It's one of the perks of being the youngest _and _the only girl, I think. Funny, since Mum all but invented _that_ sob story. It does happen occasionally, though, and sometimes there are things I just can't talk my way out of. This happens considerably more often with Mum than it does with Dad, as he still favors me a bit since I'm his little girl and everything.

I'm glad I'm at school right now because I'm pretty sure that if I were home, this would be one of those times I couldn't avoid trouble. Of course, if I were at home, I certainly wouldn't tell my mum that she is an "uncaring, insensitive, horrible mother who doesn't care about me all!" which, of course, is exactly what I wrote in the reply letter to the one she sent me about why she _isn't _going to send me extra spending money so that I can buy the more expensive version of Tricia Panabaker's latest pair of designer shoes. See, if I were at home, I would simply sulk up a bit and go brood in my room for awhile. But as I'm at school and well out of my mother's arm reach, I feel a bit more confident in letting her know exactly how I feel. The worst she can do now is send me a Howler, but I know she probably won't even do that. She might write back and threaten to beat me once I get home, but I won't be home until Christmas, and she'll well have forgotten by then. So I send Prawler, the owl my parents bought me last birthday, off into the night with the letter and don't worry too much about it.

I hurry away from the Owlery and away from the smells of dung and dirty birds as quickly as possible. I get back to Gryffindor Tower fairly fast and start scouring the Common Room for someone to talk to. I get distracted, though, when I see Louis sitting alone at the end of a homework table. He's got his History book open and seems to be really confused.

"Hey," I say, dropping into the chair across from him. He looks up and seems a bit miserable. "What's wrong? He shrugs and ducks his head. "Need any help?" I ask, gesturing towards his homework. He shakes his head but says nothing. "You okay, Louis?" He mumbles something that I can't hear, so I lean over the table and ask him to repeat it.

He finally looks up, and I'm horrified to see tears in his eyes. Oh, shit. He's going to _cry. _The Gryffindor Common room is definitely _not _the place I'd want to be if I were to suddenly burst into tears, and I can only imagine what people will say if he starts crying. Wanting to spare him the misery, I don't hesitate in standing and pulling him up right along with me. I drag him through the Common Room as inconspicuously as possible and pull him out into the safety of the hallway. No one's around, thankfully, and he starts crying almost immediately.

"Louis," I say gently, not sure where to go with this. "What's wrong?"

"I hate it here," he finally squeaks up, and more tears start falling. "I want to go _home!"_

I've always felt a bit protective over Louis. I feel a connection with him that's based on the fact that he and I are sort of in the same situation. We're both the youngest of three kids- me, the only girl and him, the only boy. Of course, there's quite a bit more age difference between him and his sisters than there is between my brothers and me, but it's still basically the same setup. Plus, Louis is one of only three of my cousins who're younger than me, so I've always wanted to take care of him.

He's still crying, and I don't know what else to do, so I hug him to me. He seems grateful, as he doesn't pull away at all and actually presses his face into my jumper and wets it all up with his tears. I pet his head and smooth down his hair, which is as silky and as blonde as ever. It's a pity that Louis wasn't born a girl, as he truly does have _beautiful _hair, not to mention _beautiful _facial features. He's actually quite pretty for a boy.

"You'll be okay," I promise. "You're just a bit homesick right now because it's all new."

"I don't have any _friends!"_

I feel bad because I realize that I haven't checked to see how Louis has been getting on since we've arrived. I haven't looked after him and made sure he was talking to people and making friends and all that sort of thing. I should have done because it's my responsibility as his older, wiser cousin to look out for him.

Not that any of mine have ever looked out for me, of course… But I'm not going to be like any of _those _people.

"Well, you'll make friends," I say encouragingly. "It just takes a bit of time to get to know people, you know?"

"I want to go home."

"Why?" I pull away and look down at him. He's very tiny. "You don't want to go home," I say wisely. "Victoire's going to have the baby soon, and then everyone's going to be _mad! _And then you'd have to put up with the baby being around all the time, and remember how much you hated when Landon cried and had dirty nappies all the time?"

Louis looks at me and seems to consider what I'm saying. True, I'm attempting to make a joke, but I'm also serious at the same time. He really _did _hate when Landon was born- not as much as Roxie did, of course, but he definitely wasn't thrilled. And it's going to be a world's worse when it's his own _sister_ who has the baby.

"So, see," I go on, smiling hopefully at him, "you're much better off here than you would be in that house when your mum goes completely mental over her first grandchild."

Louis sniffs, but I'm happy to see that he's stopped crying at least. He doesn't seem to know what to say, but that's alright because he doesn't have to say anything.

"C'mon," I say, ruffling his hair again. "I'll help you with your History. I'm _sure _Binns hasn't taught you anything useful."

An hour later, I've set up a game of Gobstones at the table and invited some of the other First Years over to play with us. Louis is shy and doesn't say much to them, but I try my best to engage them all in conversation. He finally starts opening up a bit and even laughs at a couple of jokes the other kids tell.

Hugo and Amanda walk up, and I look over at them and smile. Amanda raises her eyebrows, and I know she's wondering why I'm playing Gobstones with a bunch of First Years. Hugo seems a bit confused, too, but I think he sort of understands when he sees Louis finally having a bit of fun. I momentarily abandon the game to chat with them.

"Louis needed help making friends," I explain quietly, though all the First Years are now heavily-engaged in the game and not paying any attention at all to us.

Amanda looks over my shoulder at the game and nods. "Looks like he's having fun now," she observes, and I see Hugo glance at her rather oddly. He's been doing that a lot lately, and I wonder if maybe he fancies her or something. Amanda is Neville's daughter, so we've known her forever. But she and Hugo never really got on all that well. They didn't _fight _or anything, but they always annoyed each other, and I always had to hear about it. Once we started school, though, that all changed, and now we're all best friends. Only this year, Hugo's been acting a bit strange around her, and I sometimes catch him looking at her like he's really confused or something.

"Did you finish your Transfiguration essay yet?" I ask, not wanting him to look at her like that. It's weird, and I'd rather it not happen. They both nod, and I realize they've probably done their homework together while I've been playing caretaker to Louis. "Can I copy?" I ask, raising my eyebrows in question.

Amanda nods and sets her bag onto the table before pulling out a roll of parchment that apparently contains her essay. We do this fairly often- copy each other's work. I know that it's probably not the _most _honest thing in the world, but it's not as if we _couldn't _do our own work if we really wanted to. We just _don't_ want to. We don't cheat in Herbology, though, seeing as how Amanda's dad is the teacher, and we don't want to push it _that _far.

"Did you hear Rose got kicked out of Potions?" Hugo asks, and I look at him wondering how I could possibly have _not _heard. It seems to be the only thing anyone's talking about. "Mum's going to murder her," he says seriously.

He isn't exaggerating. Aunt Hermione was the angriest I've ever seen her when she had to come up here after Rose got in trouble with Montague last term. She pretty much threatened Rose within an inch of her life if there were anymore issues, so I have no doubt that she'll actually finish her off this time.

Not that Rose doesn't deserve it, of course. She seems to get eviler by the day, and I'd quite like to see her properly punished for being such a crazy bitch.

Of course, I'm not allowed to call her a crazy bitch. I could probably call her a bitch and get away with a _"Lily!" _and a sharp look. But I could _never _call her a _crazy _bitch and live to tell the tale. If Rose herself heard me say that, she'd probably beat me and then go run and tell my parents who would beat me again. If my parents heard it, they'd either beat me or subject me to a four hour lecture on insensitivity. Or maybe both. Crazy's not a word you're allowed to use when describing Rose.

Even though a truer adjective cannot be found.

She's totally and _completely _effin' _mental!_

She's been that way for years now, going all the way back to when she was twelve and got kidnapped and held hostage for two months. She came back really fucked in the head, and three years of therapy hasn't seemed to help one bit. In fact, I _swear _she gets crazier every day. She certainly gets _meaner. _The worst part of it all, though, is that she's now got this superpass, which lets her get away with saying all sorts of things that none of the rest of us could ever get away with. It's like she has free reign to be an evil bitch, a _crazy _evil bitch, and have no fear of consequence.

So yes, I hope her mum _really _lets her have it this time.

Hugo doesn't seem quite as hell-bent on watching Rose get her comeuppance. He looks kind of worried, as though he's actually afraid Rose might literally get killed by their mum. She won't, of course, but I sure as hell hope she's rightly miserable for a bit after her mother finds out. Hugo's so weird anyway. Rose is _awful _to him, but he hardly ever holds a grudge against her. They fight quite a bit, but he nearly always forgives her right away, whereas she might carry on a grudge with him for _months. _He doesn't like it when people call her crazy or say she's mental, either, and he gets really defensive about it, even when people are joking. My brothers annoy me, but if they _ever _treated me the way Rose treats Hugo, I'd never forgive them.

"Maybe they won't find out," he says quietly, and I almost think there's a hopeful sort of tone to his voice. "I mean, maybe you can get your dad to not tell," he adds to Amanda who looks at him with a face that clearly says what she's thinking.

"I can't get my dad to do _anything. _And you _know _he's going to tell." She continues to look at him pointedly.

"Well, maybe he'll only tell Dad," Hugo goes on, and I laugh.

"Yeah, and like your dad won't tell your mum!" I shake my head at him. "Aunt Hermione's _going _to find out, and Rose is going to be in _major _trouble."

Speaking of the devil (literally), the Portrait Hole swings open, and Rose walks in with my brother. They are deep in conversation with each other, and neither of them seems to notice anyone else. Rose is waving her hands about wildly, and Al is watching and nodding. I don't know what (or who) they're talking about, but it seems to be serious. I glance back over to Louis and find that he's doing perfectly fine and is engaged in the group conversation, laughing along with everyone else. Good. My work there is done at least.

I interrupt Rose and Al as they walk by, and they both stop talking and look at me. "You're still alive," I observe smartly, smirking at Rose. "Guess the owls must be slow today."

She narrows her eyes at me, and Al looks like he wants to hit me. He doesn't, of course, but I can tell I've brought up something that they both want left alone. "Shut up, Lily," Rose snaps.

"Or what?" I challenge, and I glimpse Hugo roll his eyes at Amanda beside me.

"Or maybe I'll shut you up," Rose shoots right back. She pulls herself up to her full height and attempts to look intimidating. She is actually quite tall, taller than Al and nearly as tall as James. She towers over me, but it's hard to think of her as intimidating when she's that skinny. She seems to be five feet of leg and eight inches of everything else, and she's so _thin. _She doesn't keep herself that thin on purpose, either, unlike a lot of the girls here- she eats everything she wants all the time, but she just never gains any weight… she just keeps getting taller.

"Ooh, I'm really scared," I answer back sardonically. Actually, she might not be all that intimidating, but I don't really doubt that she'll hit me. She's already in trouble, if she's risking death at her mother's hand, she probably wants to get in as much evildoing as possible before the deadline.

Al tugs on her arm and glares at me. "Stop it, Lily," he says seriously, attempting to pull Rose away.

He always chooses her side over _everyone. _I'm his _sister, _and he's telling _me _to stop it- not Rose who is likely to smash a chair over my head at any given moment. Prick.

They leave after that. Rose is smug because apparently everyone in the world is on her side and against _me. _Even Hugo looks at me like he's a little bit mad. I look back expectantly, and he fidgets a bit nervously.

"_What?"_ I demand.

He looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just shakes his head and mutters, "Nothing."

"Look, let's play Snap," Amanda suggests brightly with fake enthusiasm. She is trying to break whatever tension is starting to build, she always does that. I think sometimes that it must be weird for her to have grown up with all of us but to not actually be _family. _She always tries to keep the peace between all of us whenever we have disagreements, I think she thinks it's her responsibility or something.

Weird

The next morning, I wake up late. Everyone else has already gotten up and apparently left for breakfast, but Amanda shakes me awake. She's already dressed and ready for the day.

"It's after eight!" she says, throwing me my clothes as I sit up and attempt to get oriented. "I thought you were in the shower!"

I realize that with the curtains drawn around my bed that it might be a bit difficult to gauge whether I'm there or not, but it's hard for me to believe that she thought I was in the shower, seeing as how I'm sure she's spent the better part of the morning in the bathroom herself. If it's after eight already, I'll have to do without a shower. I'll barely have time to get dressed and brush my teeth.

As I strip my nightclothes off and start switching them with my uniform, I look over to Amanda who is apparently doing some last-minute revision for the Defense quiz that was promised to us. I get my clothes on but realize that I only have one shoe. I drop down beside my bed and start digging around in search of it. I don't know how all this crap gets under my bed, it's like it holes up down here and decides to hide.

"What're you looking for?" Amanda asks, and I tell her I only have one shoe. I'm not sure if she can hear me, though, with my head otherwise covered by a bed and a load of other junk. "Nice knickers," she observes and giggles. I reach back and attempt to pull my skirt down, but it's a pretty useless effort in my current position. The bloody shoe isn't here.

"What am I going to do?" I ask, panicking as I glimpse the clock and see that it's nearly half-past. Classes start promptly at a quarter of.

Amanda puts away her text and comes over to help. She starts looking around and under everyone else's beds as I throw open my trunk and start yanking everything out of it, even though I know I didn't put my shoe in there.

"Just wear your trainers," Amanda finally says.

"We'll get points off," I protest, knowing that uniform violations are good for ten off for each infraction.

"You don't have any other choice," she says, pointing at the clock. I know she's right, so I only grumble a little bit as I get up and pull on the trainers. They look absolutely ridiculous with knee socks and everything else, but oh well. I panic a little bit when I realize that if I can't find my shoes that I'll have to write Mum for new ones, and then she'll think I lost them on purpose because of our recent back and forth on my desire for new designer shoes.

I'm finally finished, and I start throwing all my books into my bag hurriedly. We're going to be late, I know it. When I'm done, I look over at Amanda who is standing beside me. "Ready," I say firmly.

Amanda winces and shakes her head. "Oh, my god, brush your teeth."

_Damn._

I grab my toothbrush and literally run to the bathroom. I certainly don't take the time to properly clean each of my teeth, I just want to make sure my breath stops stinking. As I spit and rinse, I glance in the mirror and wince at the sight of my hair. I grab a brush (I don't know whose it is, just one that happens to be sitting on the counter… if I catch bugs, I'll know why) and run it through my hair quickly. It untangles pretty easily, and I'm thankful to have fine, straight hair that's about as low-maintenance as possible.

We _are _late to class, and by the time we run through the door of our Defense class, it's 8:49. We're both panting, and Professor Langley looks at up at us as he continues to pass out the quiz questions. He points at the clock, and we both nod knowingly and apologetically as we slide into seats at the back table. I'm out of breath and extremely hungry, and I feel bad because I know Amanda is, too, and she didn't even oversleep. When Professor Langley finally reaches us, he slides the tests onto our desk and says, "Ten Points from Gryffindor for tardiness." I try to hide my shoes, but apparently that just makes it more obvious because he looks down and corrects himself, "Twenty."

I'm in a foul mood for the rest of the morning, both because I've managed to lose us so many points and because I feel as if I'm starving to death. Not to mention, of course, that I'm fairly certain I failed that Defense quiz by a very large margin. When lunchtime finally rolls around, I'm the first to the Great Hall, and Amanda and I both fill our plates with far more than we would normally eat. It's not even that great of a lunch- sandwiches and fruit salad- but I'm so hungry that I couldn't care less.

I feel someone pull my hair, and I know it's James without turning around. He _always _pulls my hair, and I _hate _it. "What's up, Lils?" he asks obnoxiously. He knows I hate to be called Lils, so he does it for that exact reason. He sits down beside me and steals a bite of my sandwich. I don't know why he can't just get his own.

He's alone for once, and I wonder where all his mates are. They usually travel in a pack, and if he's not with those boys, there's usually a line of girls trailing him wherever he goes. He's quite popular, my brother, and it's actually quite annoying. Even the girls in _my _year lust after him, and they always make a point to tell me, _"James is _so _cute, you're so lucky he's your brother!" _Like him being cute makes him a good brother or something. Yeah, right.

And he's not even that cute.

"What do you want, James?" I ask, pulling my plate away before he can eat anymore of my lunch.

"Can't I just want to spend some time with my baby sister?" he asks with what is clearly fake innocence.

"No."

"What happened to your shoes?" he asks, glancing under the table. Christ, why is everyone staring at my feet today??

"I could only find one this morning," I answer, annoyed.

"Well, when we lose the House Cup, it's going to be your fault. Thanks for that."

He's so full of shit. He laughs at the outraged expression on my face, grabs my sandwich again, and takes off with it before I even realize it. I look after him and see him fall into step with and sling an arm around Gemma Patterson. Disgusted, I roll my eyes at Amanda and reach for another sandwich. The table starts filling up, and the Great Hall gets louder and louder. Hugo joins us, and the three of us start planning what we're going to do when afternoon classes are over. I don't even notice that the mail's arrived until Prawler drops a letter into my plate and perches herself on the edge of Hugo's chair expectantly. Damn, Mum certainly didn't waste any time on replying. At least it's not a Howler, I can tell that by the packaging. Still, though, I look up at Amanda and Hugo nervously before I undo the seal and pull out the letter.

Oh, bloody _wonderful. _It's so bad that Mum made _Dad _write it.

_Dear Lily,_

_Your mother and I received your letter, and I must say that I'm very appalled at some of the things you wrote in it. Neither of us appreciated the way you insinuated that you are somehow less than provided for, especially when you have so much more than most people can ever dream of. The tone in which the letter was written, as well as the rude and disrespectful words of it, have disappointed both of us greatly._

_If your intention was to somehow convince us that you deserve any new things, you should know that you have failed miserably. You will be getting nothing new for a long time, and you have only yourself to thank for it. I suggest that you write your mother an apology and explain exactly why you think you are allowed to say such things. You don't know the sacrifices that have been made so that you can have everything that you've got. You shouldn't be so selfish and entitled that you simply expect things. _

_I hope that by the time you read this letter, you've had a chance to think about the things that you said and feel actual remorse for them. You have highly upset both your mother and me, and I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed I personally am that you have apparently become so self-entitled. I want the best for you, and I want you to become the type of person that other people respect and look up to. You need to learn humility and thankfulness. You will be a better person for it, I promise._

_I love you, and I hope that you are studying hard. _

_Love,_

_Dad_

Well, thank you, Mr. I Saved the World. Gah. I hate my parents sometimes.

I look up at Hugo and Amanda who have both just watched me read the letter. Without even bothering to explain, I simply tell them, "We've _got _to find my shoe."

--

A/N: So, another quick update! Thanks for the reviews, hope you enjoyed this one!


	6. Captain James

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 6

**CAPTAIN JAMES**

--

Penny Fammons literally _begged _me to meet her in the Fourth Floor girls' bathroom, and I said no.

Now know that this is a huge accomplishment for me. I do _not _say no to girls, especially not ones who look as cute as Penny Fammons. Now _there's _a girl who's quite fit. When girls ask or suggest, and especially when they _beg, _me to meet them somewhere, I'm usually there in a blink. Girls, you see, rank very high on my list of priorities. There's probably only one thing that ranks above them.

Quidditch.

Now, I don't know if you know this about me, but I'm actually a star Quidditch player. I'm getting signed for the pros next year. I haven't actually been approached by any of the teams or anything, but that's just because of protocol, I'm sure. They don't like to recruit teenagers who are still in school because it looks bad on the league. So, no sweat on that. They'll come 'round this year and be pounding my door down trying to get me signed.

Quidditch comes quite naturally to me, of course. My dad was the youngest Seeker Hogwarts had seen in well over a hundred years, and my mum even played professionally for a few years. True, she _did _play for the Harpies, and you know, of course, that the Harpies are a bunch of birds on broomsticks and are actually quite shit. People only come out to watch them because they want to ogle their tits and that sort of thing. But still, to each his (or her) own, I guess. The Harpies are actually to thank for my existence, I suppose anyway, if you want to get technical. I've never directly asked, but it's pretty common knowledge that I was conceived directly following an important match. Of course, Mum had to quit playing the next season because she was knocked up with me, and she and my dad had to hurry up and get married before they brought a bastard child into the world. Yes, I can count. My birthday's in December, and their anniversary is in July. So obviously something doesn't add up quite right…

So still, even if I hate the Harpies and everything they stand for, I guess it's a good thing they've got decent enough players to have something worth celebrating, or else I might never have been born.

And then where would the girls of Hogwarts be?

Shit out of luck, that's where. I'm the best thing this school has to offer, and everyone knows it. That's why I hardly even have to work at getting laid. Girls are always around and always dropping little hints to get me alone, and then when they do, trust me, I don't have to use much persuasion to get their knickers off. But I know what's important, and when it comes down to it, sometimes sex has to take a backseat to more important things.

Like stacking the best fucking Quidditch team Hogwarts has ever seen.

Neville told me on Monday that I've got the pitch booked for Saturday. I scheduled the trials for that day and posted the information in the Common Room. There's only one spot that needs filling technically, as the rest of the team is left over from last year. My cousin Fred was one of our Beaters, though, and since he graduated, we need someone to take his spot. Or so it would seem. The thing is, though, that I'm not positive we've really got the best of the best coming in. I mean, sure, we're pretty damn good, but how can you ever be positive that there's no one better? That's why I posted that I'm looking for _all _positions and let all the incumbents know that if they're expect a spot on the team, they'd better damn well show up to trials.

Thursday now, and I'm a nervous mess trying to get everything sorted and in place. I've studied the sign up sheet a million times, but I'm still not sure exactly what order I need to play this. Should I let all the newbies have a go first, or should I scare away all the shit ones by putting my current teammates out there to show just what I'm looking for? I've no clue. I've never done this before, and I guess I really never thought about how difficult it might be. So bad, even, that it's put me off sex (at least for now). So poor Penny Fammons is probably down in the Ravenclaw Common Room crying her pretty blue eyes out right now. And I'm up here in Gryffindor with four playbooks and three pages worth of sign up sheets in front of me.

It starts getting pretty late, and people start drifting up to bed. Tomorrow's a school day after all. Everyone's in for curfew now, and I watch the Common Room empty out bit by bit as I try to keep focused on the upcoming tryouts. When Al joins me, it's nearly midnight, and the Common Room's as good as deserted by now. There's some slag called Ellie snogging Chris Cumberford on the sofa, but other than them, it's just us Potters.

"Got it sorted out yet?" he asks, pulling the first page of Quidditch hopefuls toward him and studying the names closely.

"Not even close," I mutter, and I have the strangest urge to actually _scream _in frustration.

I almost ask him where Rose is, but I figure she's just up in her dormitory, mortified and sulking. I'm not completely positive of what happened, but I do know her parents found out about her getting thrown out of Potions last week and that her mum decided to make a special trip up here to talk to her about it. I don't think the school actually _called _her up, but apparently Aunt Hermione was _so _mad when she found out that not only had Rose been removed from class but that she'd been removed by the same professor whom she'd wholly insulted the term before, that she showed up at school and dragged Rose into the toilet to let her have it. I don't know exactly what happened, but I hear there was a lot of yelling and screaming, and Rose was definitely crying when she came out. I'll hold out hope that she got smacked, though I'm very sure she didn't. Still, though… I can dream, can't I? Rose has been sulking ever since; she'll get over it in a few days, but for now, at least, we can all enjoy the quiet her absence brings.

Al is studying the list of names, and I know what he's thinking. He's thinking that I shouldn't even be considering kicking any of our current teammates off, as that isn't the way things are generally done. Usually, when you're on the House team, you're on it until you either quit or leave school (but no one ever quits). But maybe that's why teams rarely have perfect, undefeated seasons. Because no one is the _best._

But Gryffindor will be _the best _this year. We're going to be unstoppable, and I'm going to end the season signing a nice, thick contract that promises me a nice, fat paycheck. And then I'm going to buy myself everything my parents never would. And I'm going to move into this wicked flat, preferably in the middle of London, though I guess it technically depends on who I'm signed with as to where I'll be living. But wherever it is, it's going to be so sweet, and I'm never letting any of my family visit at all (except for Fred, and maybe Teddy and Victoire- but not their new brat, I hate kids). And then I'm going to play for fifteen years until I retire at the age of 34 and spend my Golden Years getting high and getting laid by models and Veelas.

So, take that, _Mum. _And you say I have no ambition in life…

"Why are you even letting First Years try out?" Al asks, scanning the second page of the list. He's bitter because there wasn't a spot for him until his _second year, _so he thinks that others ought to suffer the same, I reckon.

"Because somebody might be a prodigy," I say simply, and it's the truth. I'm not discriminating based on anything with this team. It's all equal-opportunity. Age, Gender, Race, Religion, Hairstyle, Acne… We welcome all types here. As long as you're a ruddy good Quidditch player, that is.

Al doesn't say anything, just keeps reading the names. "This is going to take forever," he finally mumbles.

"Look," I say, stopping my concentration completely, "it'll be worth it, alright? And I'm doing this for you, too, you know? When the scouts come out for me this season, they're going to naturally watch you as well. They'll all get you in their heads, and then by the time you're done school, they'll be falling all over themselves to sign you so that they can be involved in the Ultimate Potter versus Potter Showdown."

"How do you know we won't get recruited by the same team?" he asks, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"Because," I say simply, "you'd never _voluntarily _agree to spend that much time with me once we don't have to, you sure as hell wouldn't sign a bloody contract about it."

He shrugs, and I know I'm right. Al can't wait for me to be gone, and I know it. I'm not offended by it, I can't wait to be away from him, either. Not just him, of course, but him and Lily and Mum and Dad and everyone else who may as well live at our house. I'm sick of all them, and they're all sick of me. So it's a winning sitch for everyone.

It's all very smothering in our family, and everyone knows it.

Saturday finally (abruptly) rolls around, and I find myself down at the pitch with several stacks of paper and several backup quills and ink wells. If I ever came to class this prepared, I'd probably be a star student by now. But, of course, we all must have priorities, and I have to think about what's really important in life. No need to waste all that ink and parchment on stupid shit like taking notes, now is there?

There're a ton of people down here, too. We had loads sign up, of course, but the stands are filling up, too, with various onlookers who've come to cheer their mates on. And some, just to be nosy- I spot the entire lot of the Slytherin team sitting together at the top. Wankers. I set up all my papers and enlist my mate Brampton to help keep me organized. Brampton's an alright bloke, and luckily he's got no desire to be a Quidditch star, so he can help me out in an unbiased sort of way.

I call all the hopefuls down to where I'm standing, and they all crowd around me. Wow, there really _are _a lot of them. All the current members of the team are standing together, and I know a lot of them are hacked off at me for making them come out. But fair's fair, right? And I'm a _very _fair person.

"Alright," I say loudly, raising my voice so that they can all hear. Everyone gets quiet and listens to me, and I find myself enjoying it immensely. "Here's how this is going to work. I'm going to split you up into teams, so no whining about who you are or _aren't _with, alright? The teams go head to head, I take notes. When I call end to the game, everyone comes down immediately, and I tell you whether you've got a chance or if you're just plain shit. If I say you're shit, you get the hell off my pitch and don't bother me about it again. Got it?" Everyone mumbles their understanding, and I nod decisively. I send fourteen people into the air, including one of my current fellow Chasers and the current Keeper.

This carries on for hours. Some people are actually quite good, and I wonder why they've never come out for trials before. I send plenty of people away, though, several after just a minute or two in the air. Usually, they all just grumble and leave, but one Fourth Year boy called Dermot goes mental on me and accuses me of being a dictator and, get this, _stuck up. _Hah. I tell him to get the hell away from me before I'm forced to _make _him get the hell away from me… and so, he finally gets the sodding hell away from me.

When I send my last set of hopefuls into the air, I'm pleased as punch. There's some really great talent here, actually, and I'm already piecing the team together in my head as they start their tryout. This isn't exactly fair, of course, as I'm barely even watching them and have already pretty much made up my mind, but I don't care. I keep one eye on them as Brampton and I get to work piecing together the various setups. They've got a Chaser up there who looks like he might be decent, but they've also got this really little girl playing Seeker who's called, I have to check my lineup, Chelsea Whitaker. She flies so well that she may very well have been born on a broomstick. She's a First Year, and I don't recall seeing her before now. I'm momentarily distracted, but then I hear a loud WHOOP from the stands, and I realize that the little girl has actually caught the Snitch- something no one else has managed to do in the short amount of airtime I've allowed them.

Okay, so things just got _very _interesting…

I call all those kids back down and send them all away except for Chelsea and the Chaser. I tell them to join the other people I haven't cut at the bottom of the stands, and I turn straight to Brampton and say, "What the fuck was _that?!"_

I look at the list he's compiled for me of the people still in this, and I find that I've got six maybe-Keepers, nine maybe-Chasers, five maybe-Beaters, and… two maybe-Seekers. I don't know if this was subconsciously intentional or not. Or maybe the rest of the Seeker wannabes really _were _all just crap… But up until Chelsea made her attempt, I hadn't even considered anyone but Al. Al is an _amazing _Seeker, see? He gets that from our dad. I got the Chaser genes (I'm telling you, it's all to do with my conception), but Al got his own Quidditch ability (and everything else) straight from Dad. The little shit might be crap at everything else in his life, but he's a fucking good Quidditch player at least. Going into this tryout, I don't think I ever considered that Al wouldn't be the only decent Seeker we'd see, just because he really is _that _good. But _damn, _Chelsea Whitaker…

I go back over to where all the non-cut people are sitting, and I let them know that the next part of this is going to be head to head, every man (and woman) for him(her)self. "If I call you out, you need to come down immediately and stop wasting everyone else's time. When I've got six people left in the air, then yeah, congratulations."

"There's seven people on a Quidditch team," Mark Angels speaks up.

"Thanks, genius," I say hatefully. "I make the seventh, you fuckwit. Now get the hell off my pitch!"

Wow. That felt _really _good…

Mark looks bewildered at first, but then he just sort of glares at me and huffs off the pitch. Everyone else looks either terrified or angry, but Tara Miller looks sort of turned on at my assertiveness. I wink at her.

The now five maybe-Keepers, nine maybe-Chasers, five maybe-Beaters, and two maybe-Seekers all get ready to take off. I smartly avoid my brother's eye, as I don't want him to look at me like I'm breaking some sort of family code by even considering another person for his spot. I'm sure he'll beat her arse anyway, but she's at least entertaining to watch for the moment.

"And… _go!"_

All twenty-one people soar into the air, and Brampton releases all the balls, sending them up soaring after them a second later. We watch from below, and I take into account every aspect of each person's ability. One Beater can fly better than all the rest, but his swing's a little weak. _"Mifflin!" _Out. One Keeper is really good at covering two of the hoops, but she always misses the third. _"Dante!" _Out. One Chaser's aim is spot on, but she's so bloody slow that she gets hit by the Bludger three different times. _"Vickery!" _Out.

And so on and so on.

Before _too _long (okay, nearly two hours), I've got most of my team picked and in the air. The two remaining Chasers are both of my old teammates. I already know that we work really well together, and they really are the best of the best. I call my old Keeper down and leave up a newbie. I have to listen to the old one, Liam Finnegan, curse me out and call me everything from a tosser to a 'queer old monkey fucker' before I finally threaten to hex him if he doesn't fucking leave already. He finally does. I leave the incumbent Beater in place and pair him up with Joshua Rainey, a Sixth Year who might actually be better than Fred was…

And that just leaves my Seeker.

The Snitch is on the loose, and I leave the entire new team (plus both wannabe Seekers) up until it's found. I know everyone's really tired, but I'm really enjoying watching Chelsea fly, and I want to watch her as long as possible, seeing as how I'll be long gone from the school by the time Al's graduated and she steps into his spot. Maybe I'll even give her some private coaching later, _really _up her skills. She has the ability to be amazing, and one day when she's playing pro, I'd like to be able to say, _"I helped that girl get where she is!"_

Okay, everyone looks like they're dying, so I'll go ahead and call them all down without the Snitch. I need to talk to my new team anyway and set up all the schedules and everything else, as well as let them know that this year, each and every one of them has to eat, sleep, and _breathe _Quidditch. No exceptions.

A loud scream cuts me off, though, just as I'm about to open my mouth, and I look up in shock to see both Al and Chelsea nose-diving toward the pitch. The Snitch has been spotted, and they've apparently both gone into feinting-mode in an attempt to grab it. Everyone is completely silent following that one scream, and we all watch, glued to the scene as both Seekers barrel straight toward the ground. Al's just a tiny bit ahead, and I find myself cheering him in my head, _Get it, Al, fucking get it!!_ Suddenly, though, the Snitch takes a sharp turn, and they both jerk their brooms upward and take off after it. We truly _are _witnessing some remarkable flying, and all other activity has completely stopped. I'm actually a bit frightened, seeing as how Chelsea's so small and young. She's flying _so _fast, and if something were to happen and she fell… Oh, god, she's fucking _upside down! _My mouth drops open as she swings _underneath _her broomstick and hangs by her feet as she steers herself downward after the ever-changing Snitch. Al notices, too, but he doesn't get distracted, simply barrels down as quickly as possible. But then…

Oh, my _fucking _god.

Chelsea has the Snitch.

"_Stop!" _I yell loudly, waving my arms about madly. "Everyone get down here _right now!"_

All seven people do just that, and everyone is staring in shock at Chelsea, some are even clapping her on the back and saying, "_That was fucking _amazing!"

I say, "What the _hell _is wrong with you?!"

She stares at me in what I guess is probably a bit of shock. "Sorry?" she asks meekly. God, she is so _small._

"You could've been killed!" I exclaim, and I realize I'm sweating like an obese whore. "Don't you _ever _do that again!"

"Take it easy, James, she's just a kid," Mariska Ballas, one of my Chasers, tells me. She pats Chelsea on the shoulder and tells her, "That was _amazing! _You're going to be a wicked Seeker someday!"

Someday.

Oh, fucking Christ on a Crumpet. Oh, _fuck._

Al hasn't said a word since they all returned to the ground. He's staring hard at something on his shoe, and his knuckles are completely white as he clutches his broom _so _tightly that I 'm afraid he might break it in half. I try to catch his eye, but it's absolutely impossible, as he refuses to look anywhere but downward.

A million thoughts run through my head, and I try desperately to weigh them all against each other. I have no idea what to do. She _got _the Snitch. She _beat _him. This is about my future, I can't let it be about anything else… But oh, _shit._

"Right," I mutter, more to myself than anyone else. "Good flying up there… Here's the practice schedule." I don't look at anyone as I hand them out, not at Mariska and Emily, my Chasers… not at Elliot and Joshua, my Beaters… not at Casey, my new Keeper, and not at… Chelsea.

Everyone sort of gasps, and I can't look at any of them. I hear somebody say, "Come on, James, _seriously_!" but I can't even register who it is. Everyone is shocked, and I'm sure they're all rightly pissed off, too… but I can't let it bother me. I have to do what's best for me. And my team, of course.

Al is walking away before I can even notice. He's not stomping and huffing like the rest of the people I cut, but he's walking very quickly and very deliberately away from the team and back towards the castle. When he gets about ten meters away, he throws his broomstick to the ground and leaves it as he keeps walking.

"Do something," Mariska hisses at me, and I can hear how mad she is in her tone.

Fine.

"Al!" I call after him, but he's quite a distance away now. Either he doesn't hear me or he's completely ignoring me- my bet's on second.

"Oh, my god, you're such a _bastard!" _Emily says, disgusted. "He's your _brother!"_

"Look," I say pointedly, now _I'm _mad. "I made the right decision for the team. Chelsea outflew him, and you all know it!"

Poor Chelsea looks awfully awkward, and I feel bad for her, as I realize it must suck to listen to your brand new teammates all but say out loud that they wished you hadn't made it. God, they're all so selfish. She's just a ruddy _kid._

"That was low, James," Emily sneers. "Even for you."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," I say hatefully. "I'm Captain, and I make the calls, got it? If you've got a problem with that, you can just leave now."

She glares at me, but she shuts up. I won that argument with the all-powerful Trump card.

James 1/Team 0.

I love winning… but why do I feel a little like shit?

--

A/N: Ahh, so now the few people who liked James before probably hate him, I'm sure! Sorry, I know he's a right bastard, but I kind of have a soft spot for him myself… Anyway, thanks for reading and please leave a review- even if you _hated _it!

I actually had two different people (and faithful reviewers) ask me if this is going to be all kids or if there're going to be any adult chapters. The truth is… I don't honestly know. At this point, I haven't planned on having any adult chapters, though they will certainly play big roles throughout the story, but I really don't know. There might come a point where I need one of the adults to narrate, but I just haven't got that far yet. If you want to put it in a next gen C2, I say go ahead- the majority of it (if not all of it) will be from the kids' various points of views.

Thanks again!!


	7. Al, the Lame Potter

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 7

**AL, THE LAME POTTER**

--

In case you're wondering if I hate my brother… the answer is yes.

Am I bitter that he humiliated me in front of the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team? Yeah, little bit. Am I angry that he cut me from the team and replaced me with an eleven year old _girl? _Sure.

But that's not the reason I hate him.

I hate him because he doesn't care about anything and never worries about anything… and yet, he has _everything. _Call it jealousy if you want, I don't give a rat's arse. Who wouldn't be jealous of the boy who has it all and does absolutely _shit _to deserve it? I've spent fifteen years trying to pretend like I'm _not _jealous, but fuck that. What difference does it make anyway? If I'm jealous or if I'm not jealous, it's not going to change the fact that he's _always _going to have whatever he wants and that he's _never _going to have to work for it.

Things just come so bloody _easy _to him. It's not fair. He's got more self-confidence in his fucking pinky than I've got in my entire body. He is popular and has tons of friends and loads of girls and is funny and is now Quidditch Captain… I've got a few friends, _no _girls, I'm too dull to ever make a joke, and now I don't even have Quidditch. It's seriously the only thing in the entire world that I like, that I'm _good _at (or at least _thought _I was good at)… but now, thanks James, I find out I'm shit at that as well.

Jesus _Christ, _why am I such a fucking loser?

Okay, so here's another thing. Maybe you think being the son of _the _Harry Potter is fun. Well, trust me, you're very, very wrong. There's nothing _fun _about it.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not like James and Lily, I don't _hate _my family. I happen to think my parents are pretty great actually, and I (usually) understand where they're coming from when they say things or make decisions that piss my siblings off. This is one reason James takes the piss so much- he constantly accuses me of sucking up and the sort. But really, I _don't _suck up. I just don't think that our parents do anything that all the other normal parents in the world don't do. They give us a lot, but they don't give us everything. But seriously, who can blame them? We don't _need _everything. They yell at us and we get in trouble, but whose fault is that anyway? Ours, obviously. It's not like it's out of the ordinary for parents to punish their kids when they get in trouble, now is it?

I also don't think that my parents ignore us because they're too busy with other things. This is something that James accuses my dad of at least once a month (usually whenever he's been caught doing something he knows he has no business doing). It's not just James, though, Lily says the same thing whenever she gets told that she can't have this or that. And even _Rose _says it, not that she's our sister, of course, but she makes the same claim about her own parents all the time. She's probably the worst about it actually, but that's because she has a real problem ever taking the blame for anything or ever admitting that she's wrong, so she always tries to blame her mum and dad for _everything…_

But back to _my _parents. Yes, they make mistakes. Yes, I get angry with them and sometimes row with them and even occasionally think they're being unfair or overreacting. But come on now, I'm fifteen. I wouldn't be a normal teenager if I didn't have at least a _bit _of parental resentment, now would I? Not that I'm all _that _normal to begin with, but you know what I mean.

So, no, my problem with being Harry Potter's son really has nothing much of anything to actually _do _with Harry Potter (or Ginny Potter, equal rights for the sexes, of course).

No, my problem with being Harry Potter's son has to do with the fact that the _rest _of the world expects me to be some goddamn hero. Or, at the very least, charismatic and entertaining. This is a load of shit, obviously, since my dad's probably the _least _charismatic person I know. But he has to put on this public persona and act like he doesn't fucking _despise_ every photographer and every reporter and every bloody kid who comes up begging for an autograph when he really does. He _hates _them all. But he can't let anyone know that because people look up to him and people respect him and people think he's some sort of god on earth or some shit. So when people see _that, _they expect the rest of us to be just the same.

And it's _shit._

When I was a kid, I didn't really know too much about the whole Harry Potter legacy. I mean, obviously I knew some of it, but my parents never really took us out into the Wizarding public all that often. We lived in a Muggle neighborhood (still do), and the majority of our exposure to the Wizarding world came at home and with our family. Obviously my mum's got a gajillion brothers, so we've got a ton of cousins and aunts and uncles and blah blah. But no one in the family was ever like _ohmigod, Harry Potter! _So even though we _knew, _it wasn't like we really knew the extent of it. But fast-forward several years to when I started Hogwarts, and let's just that my world changed a bit. And by a bit, I mean by a fucking _ton._

It was like being made into an instant-celebrity just by starting school. It was ridiculous. It's _still _ridiculous. People act like I'm some kind of saint just because my last name is Potter. They all expect me to be outgoing and eat it all up and be popular and fabulous at everything…

They expect me to be James is what they expect.

But I'm _not _James. I'm rubbish at everything I do. I'm crap at lessons. I can't talk to girls without wanting to vomit. I don't make new friends very easily. And I'm even shit at Quidditch. My dad- _the youngest Seeker in a century. _And my mum- _professional Quidditch player and MVP of the consecutive two-time national champions, the Holyhead Harpies. _If there's _one _thing I should be able to pull off, it should be Quidditch.

And yet, here I am on a Saturday afternoon, in the library with Rose and David, studying reptile Transfiguration. Where's my brother? On the Quidditch pitch practicing with the rest of his (my) team.

In all honesty, I don't even know why I'm here. Rose dragged us here for "tutoring." Of course, she's very full of shit. She has no interest in raising our grades, she simply wants to keep David away from Elisabeth for as long as possible. I'm here because… well, I don't really know. Rose told me to come, so I came. Yes, I know- fucking _loser._

"No, this is wrong," Rose says, breaking all of my concentration and sliding David's essay back over to him. "Mamals can't transfigure into reptiles because of the _breathing _issue, it's nothing to do with skin type."

David looks put out and mutters something under his breath. "I hate this shit," he whines, glaring down at his own parchment. "I mean, if mammals can't transfigure into reptiles, why are we even bloody learning about it? It's not like any of us will ever be able to do it."

"We have to learn it because it's part of the O.W.L. curriculum. You want to pass your O.W.L.s, don't you?"

This is a trick question. I know good and well that David couldn't care less about passing or failing his exams. He hates school and doesn't give two shits about his lessons. _However, _if he admits this, Rose is going to go mental and scream at him, and he knows it. So finally, he answers, "Sure. I just think it's pointless is all…"

Rose has been extremely on edge lately, ever since Aunt Hermione came up here and let her have it over the Potions incident. She told Rose that she was "out of control" and "such a disappointment" and some other shit that adults say when they're trying to guilt kids into behaving exactly the way they want them to behave. Usually, Rose would just blow it off and pay little to no attention to it, but for some reason, it's really bothered her. She told me it's because her mum's a "hypocritical cow" and that she can't believe they're related, but I'm pretty sure it's something quite different than that. Not that I'm going to ask, of course, as I rather like my head _on _my body.

She's leaned over David's book and is explaining something to him in hushed and serious tones. Apparently she's forgotten that she's supposed to be "tutoring" me as well, but I'm quite happy about that actually. I do notice that she's giving David a nice view down the front of her shirt with the way that she's leaning over him, and he doesn't seem to be doing such a great job of ignoring this. I don't know if she notices this or not, but if she does, I'm sure she's quite pleased.

I had to listen to her whine for an hour this morning about the fact that her nose is too long. She bitched about this while she tugged on her hair and got annoyed that it wouldn't go straight. Rose has a lot of issues about her appearance and constantly complains about this or that and always openly curses her mother for having such out of control hair. But the thing about Rose, though, is that she's actually very pretty. Not that she knows that, of course… or maybe she _does _know it and simply pretends not to. Who knows with her? But yeah, she _is _pretty, and she's got a load of blokes talking about her. She's really tall and really thin, which, obviously, a lot of boys like. And her hair is very red and very curly in a way that sets her aside from every other girl in the school, as no one _else _has got hair quite like _that. _And she's got a pretty face as well- pretty eyes and her nose is nowhere near as big as she makes it out to be. So she's got plenty of options if she wants to start pursuing them. And leave David alone, of course.

It's getting a bit out of control now. She is starting to be a bit obvious, what with the insisted upon "tutoring" sessions and her flying into the chair beside him in every class… and at every meal… and every night in the Common Room. I definitely think Elisabeth is starting to notice as well, as she's started making little comments like, _"Oh, sorry Rose, I didn't realize you'd started abandoning your girlfriends for their ex-boyfriends," _and things like that. They haven't had an extreme blow up or anything like that yet, but I imagine it's only a matter of time. David, for what it's worth, is starting to pay her more and more attention, and he's started playfully teasing her and pulling her hair and laughing at things she says even if they aren't funny…

I try my best to ignore the blossoming love (puke-fest) taking place beside me, and I find myself looking toward the window instead. It's not quite possible to see the Quidditch pitch from where I'm sitting, but I can imagine exactly where they are in their initial warm up. James is probably buying Chelsea Whitaker roses and candy and yelling at the rest of them that they're all lazy, useless fuckwits (or something else equally as offensive). He's mean like that.

I give up trying to spot the practice and instead turn back to Rose and David who are now actually _giggling _over something (neither of them is a giggler, by the way). Disgusting. I decide to go browse the History section and try to find some research for the upcoming Centaur Revolution essay we've got due next week. Nothing like getting a head start, eh?

The library is quiet and pretty empty, not surprising, of course, as it's probably one of the last warm and sunny Saturdays we'll get until spring. There aren't that many people milling around or browsing the stacks. I'm almost surprised when I turn up an aisle and find another human being lurking there. It's Scorpius Malfoy, and he looks as startled as I am at the meeting.

"Sorry," I mumble, stepping out of the way so that he has room to pass. He doesn't move, though, just sort of shrugs his shoulder and turns even paler than he already is. "You alright?" I ask warily. He looks like he might faint or something, and I don't particularly want to be the only person around if he kicks it.

"Yeah," he mutters. He seems really nervous, and I notice him glancing past my shoulder over toward the table where Rose and David are still huddled together, _studying. _

This is what I know about Scorpius Malfoy:

His dad and my dad were sworn enemies when they were at school.

His dad is extremely, _extremely _rich and buys the Slytherin Quidditch team brand new brooms every single year.

He is the Seeker of said Slytherin Quidditch team and has beaten me once (Third Year, Championship Match).

He is so quiet that most people forget he can actually speak.

He's weird.

So, yeah, I don't really know that much.

"I got cut from Quidditch," I say suddenly, completely unsure as to why I've even spoken, much less blurted that out. I guess it's because every conversation I've ever had with Scorpius has had to do with Quidditch, and I don't know what else to say to him.

He just nods, though, and says, "Yeah, I was there."

Brilliant.

So not only did the entire _Gryffindor _team watch me get my arse handed down, the whole _Slytherin _lot did as well. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"It was dumb, though," he mumbles on, "of your brother, I mean. That little girl's just a kid."

I know this. _Everyone _know this. Every single one of my (former) teammates has come up to me and said the exact same thing. I just say, "Yeah…"

"And who knows how she's going to actually turn out playing." He just keeps going, and I find it strange. He's still mumbling, but I don't believe I've ever heard him string this many words together at once. "Good for us, though." Wanker. "If she turns out to be shit, I mean."

"And if she turns out to be a prodigy," I repeat the word James used before the trials to excuse his mistake of letting First Years try out, "you'll all be fucked."

Truthfully, I hope she _does _turn out to be shit. If she's a prodigy, then that means that James was right and that James _won. _And I'm personally _sick_ of James fucking wining all the time. It's probably a poor sport of me, but I think I'll root for every other team _besides _Gryffindor this year. Even Slytherin. I'll probably be ostracized by my Housemates, but I don't care. I don't want James to have the satisfaction of knowing that he made the right decision. I want him to regret it every single day for the rest of his life. I hope the scouts come out to see him and see that his team sucks so badly that none of them want to sign him at all. And I hope he's forced to spend his entire adult life living in our parents' basement until finally one day Mum goes mental and tosses him out on his arse.

Yes, I really do hate him.

"Is your cousin dating him?"

_What?_

I guess I've gotten so caught up in my own daydreams of James failing that I forgot I was in the middle of a conversation. Scorpius is looking past me again, and I glance around and see that Rose and David are still giggling over whatever the hell they've discovered that's so funny. Scorpius is watching them, and for a second I get a little creeped out.

"Dating who?" I ask, and yeah, I'm a bit suspicious. "David?"

"Yeah," he mutters, and he looks down at his feet again. He's going pale again, and I find it amusing that he apparently has an _anti-_blush of sorts. "They've been together a lot lately."

He's speaking quietly, and I'm not positive I'm hearing all of what he's saying. Is he _stalking _her or something? Gross.

"I don't know," I answer, narrowing my eyes a bit and studying him. What the hell does he want with Rose anyway? His dad probably told him to try and kill her or something.

Scorpius just nods, though, and says, "Oh."

"Yeah…" I glance back to the table once more. "So… see you."

Scorpius nods again, and he seems really embarrassed. Well, he _should _be. Planning to off my cousin and all that, he deserves to be embarrassed! "Later," he mumbles and walks away so quickly that he might as well be running. I watch him leave and then go back over to where Rose and David are sitting.

"Why were you talking to Scorpius Malfoy?" Rose asks as soon as I fall into my seat.

"Oh, you saw that?" I say, faking surprise. "I figured you were too busy to notice anything else besides _Transfiguration_…"

She sort of glares me and rolls her eyes a little bit. David doesn't say anything, but I can tell he feels a bit guilty because he now realizes that I know he's trying to get off with Rose. Which is exactly what she wants, of course, but he apparently doesn't realize that I know that.

Rose doesn't seem the least bit concerned, though. Instead she just goes into MeanRose mode and snidely says, "Well, maybe you should go find Meghan and work on your own studying."

David looks a bit interested at this, and I don't know whether to be shocked or not. I doubt Rose will ever get to the point where she'll _completely _sell me out, but she definitely has moments when she does enough hinting to let even the stupidest person in on the secret. She really _isn't_ very nice sometime…

Since I'm not going to get any help with my Transfiguration (thanks, _Rosie), _I pack up my things and leave the lovebirds alone. It's by pure coincidence that I actually _do _run into Meghan. Or maybe it's less coincidence and more the fact that God hates me. Because when I say that I run into her, I mean I _literally _run into her. We smack foreheads, and I very nearly fall over. Luckily (mortifyingly), she catches me.

"Watch it, Potter!" she laughs, steadying me by the shoulders and reaching one hand up to rub her own sore forehead.

"Sorry," I stutter. She always makes me stutter. Because I'm a _loser! _

Meghan just smiles, though, and _god, _I wish her lips weren't so pretty.

"Have you been at the _library?" _she asks, obviously she's in disbelief because who visits the library on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon?

"I was with Rose."

"Ohhh," she nods. "_That _explains it." She's right, of course, Rose is exactly who would visit the library on a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon.

"Where are you going?" I ask, grasping at anything to make small talk and _not _to sound like a complete and total idiot. I wouldn't be surprised at all if my voice starts breaking any second now, _that's _how bad it is.

"Well, I was actually _looking _for Rose," she says. "And I figured she might be in the library."

"She's there with David," I blurt out. I could go on and add that she's "tutoring" him, but I'm not completely over the fact that she mentioned Meghan in front of David. I guess payback really _is _a bitch.

Meghan perks up at this, and I can tell she wants some gossip. "Does she fancy him?" she asks eagerly, though she lowers her voice a bit to a much quieter tone.

I just shrug. I'm not confirming it because I'm not a bastard, but I'm not denying it, either, because Rose is starting to tip the evil scale more often than not lately.

My silence apparently says plenty because Meghan goes right on. "If they go out, Elisabeth will kill her. She knows that, right?"

I just shrug again.

"You're definitely no fun," Meghan says, though she's clearly joking. When she sees that she isn't going to get me to crack, she grabs my elbow (_oh, my god_) and starts pulling me down the corridor.

"I thought you were going to the library," I say, and I have to struggle to keep up with her even though she still hasn't let go of my arm.

"I'm not going to interrupt them if they're in there snogging or something," she says in a voice that pretty much makes me think that much should have been obvious. I hope to god that they aren't, of course, because the thought of them together is a bit nauseating, despite the fact that they're both apparently into it. "I need you to help me sneak into the kitchens," she goes on. "I missed lunch, and Rose says she knows how to get the house-elves to give her food."

"I can't!" I blurt out, and I really wish it was possible to physically kick yourself. What is _wrong _with me?

"Can't what?" She stops walking and looks at me all weird-like.

Yes, Meghan, I _am _a complete arse.

"I can't… help you," I finish lamely. She raises an eyebrow, and I feel my palms start to heat up. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I such an _idiot? _"The house-elves don't like me… I mean, Rose's mum- that's why they like her…"

Oh, my fucking holy fuckity fuck.

Meghan doesn't say anything. She just kind of looks at me like I'm mental and should probably seek psychological attention.

"So, you should probably just ask her," I go on, and why the hell am I still talking? Shut up, shut up, shut up. "You can interrupt her and David, I'm sure they're not snogging."

Oh, god, I just said _snogging _in front of Meghan Thomas. Fuck.

"Okay, then…" she says slowly. "Well, bye, I guess…"

"Yeah, bye," I say quickly, and then I damn near _run _away from her. I can still feel the place where she had her hand on my arm.

Oh, fuck me.

I'm _such_ a loser.

--

A/N: Well, surprisingly, not everyone hated James last chapter. I'm shocked!! Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, I hope you enjoyed this one- please review!!


	8. Roses Stink

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 8

**ROSES STINK**

--

So, yes. It happened again.

My mother _humiliated _me in front of everyone I know. Ugh. This time, though, she came voluntarily. The school didn't even _call _her. She just chose to show up and embarrass me. At least she didn't yell at me in front of other people this time, though I'm sure anyone within a hundred meter radius probably heard.

It went something like this:

HER:What the _hell _is wrong with you?!

ME:Nothing's wrong with me, what the hell's wrong with you?

HER:You watch it, young lady, I am not in the mood for your smart mouth.

ME:Then perhaps you ought to cover your ears.

HER:I don't know what is _wrong _with you! You're out of control!

ME: Really, Mum, that's a bit dramatic, don't you think?

HER:I don't even know where to _begin _with you. It's like you deliberately try to get into trouble and disappoint your father and me as often as possible!

ME:Mum, Professor Montague was _wrong. _What was I supposed to do? Stand by and let him teach it incorrectly to everyone?!

HER:Do you even _know _what would have happened to me if I had corrected _my _Potions professor?

ME:Mum, that was about a hundred years ago, back when girls were supposed to keep their mouths shut and be seen and not heard and all that crap.

HER:How old do you think I _am?_

ME:I was _trying _to be polite and point out his mistake. _He's _the one who got the rotten attitude.

HER:You never correct a professor! That's so disrespectful!

ME:He's an idiot!

HER:He's your _teacher._

ME:Well, I don't know why you're taking up for him. He hates you, you know?

HER:Oh, he hates me, does he?

ME:Yes, as a matter of fact. He told me I'm just like you- an annoying, insufferable, stuck up know-it-all.

HER:That's funny, considering he's two years older than me and never had a single class with me.

ME:I guess your reputation preceded you…

HER:Rose, this is not a game, and I am _not _playing with you. You are _going _to stop this, do you understand me?

ME:Or what?

HER: _Don't _test me.

And blah, blah, blah. There was some other crap, but it was pretty much her running her mouth and not listening to a word I said- just like it always is. I actually had to start crying to get her to shut up and leave. She doesn't like when I cry because I think she's always afraid I'm going to go crazy and fly off the handle or something. So whenever I'm sick of hearing her drone on and on about why I shouldn't be doing this or why I ought to be doing that… I just turn on the tears.

And it always works.

Really, though, I _was _actually a bit upset at the whole thing. She said I'm a _disappointment. _Not just that I'm a trouble-maker, I'm an actual disappointment. Apparently to both her _and _Dad. Wow.

"Do you think your mother was justified in her opinion?"

That's my shrink, Melda. She comes up to the school once a week, and I get a couple of afternoon lessons off to visit her. My parents pay her, I don't know, a ton of money apparently, as she never quits. She never tells me I'm hopeless and always tries to keep me motivated, as if I'm _not _completely crazy and that she can still actually help me. Personally, I don't think I _am _crazy, but lots of people seem to disagree with me. Sometimes, though, it actually works to my advantage.

"I think my _mother_," I answer snidely, "is trying to project her regret for her _own _shortcomings as a teenager onto me."

Melda just looks at me. I can tell that she doesn't believe me, but I suppose it's her job to see through my bullshit. "I'm glad that you've taken my many, many lectures on projection to heart."

I love Melda. Really, I do. She is so sarcastic and bitchy, and I _love _it. True, she's often being sarcastic and bitchy to _me, _but I like that. It's nice to know someone who isn't just a mindless idiot unlike everyone else that I know. I don't care if she _is _in it for the money, mostly because I'm not the one paying her.

"I'm going to humor you, though," she goes on, leaning back in her chair and looking me straight in the eye. "Exactly _what _shortcomings do you think your mother had as a teenager?"

Oh, god. Here she goes trying to be all psychoanalytical. Fine. I'll humor _her. _"Well, she kept asking me if I knew what would have happened to _her _if _she _had corrected a teacher. Obviously she's angry with herself because she never had the courage to stand up for herself when she should have."

"_Or," _Melda breaks in, "she was simply very conservative and respectful."

Oh, yes. I'm sure she was quite perfect. After all, my mother is, and probably always was, the epitome of the model citizen. I'm pretty sure I'm about to gag.

"It has nothing to do with that," I retort. "My mother is a hypocrite, and now she's upset because she never practiced what she's always preached."

"And what do you mean by that?"

Fine. I guess I'll have to spell it out for her. "When I was little, my cousins used to be very mean to me. They always made fun of me for being smart and called me names and teased me and all that crap." Melda raises her eyebrows, so I carry on. "Mum used to always say, _'Rosie, you've got to stand up for yourself, or they're going to run all over you.' _She used to always tell me that."

"And did you? Stand up for yourself, I mean?"

I nod. "Of course I did! I wasn't about to sit there and let _those _idiots bother me."

"And now?"

"And _now," _I go on, "she yells at me for doing the exact thing she's told me to do my entire life."

Melda flips her hair over her shoulder. She's got long, golden hair that curls up randomly and hangs well below her waist- it's really very pretty. "Surely, though, you've got to realize the difference between standing up to bullying cousins and standing up to your professors?"

But she's wrong. I don't understand the difference at all because I don't believe there _is _a difference. "I'm sorry, but saying there's a difference between standing up to one person and bowing down to another is nothing but a dignified double standard."

Melda's used to me. Some people might just look at me with raised eyebrows and give me the look I'm so accustomed to- the look that plainly says, _what the hell are you talking about?? _But not Melda. She just shakes her head and laughs a bit.

"You never cease to amaze me," she says disbelievingly. "Sometimes I wonder if even _you _believe some of the stuff that comes out of your mouth."

I try to think up a smart remark, but I come up blank. It doesn't matter, though, as our time is up. The tiny little timer buzzes, and Melda starts packing up her things. I watch her, annoyed because now I have to go back to class. And it's time for Herbology. Excellent (sarcasm). Ugh, not that I don't like Neville, but I really hate his class- not as much as I hate Potions, mind you, but I just find Herbology to be a bit of a useless bore. I mean, if I'm not going into that specific field, does it really matter if I know plant breeds?

"I'll be back next Thursday," Melda reminds me. "Don't be late."

"Am I ever?" I ask coyly, and I stagger a bit under the weight of my bag.

The greenhouses are a long walk from the administrative offices where I meet with Melda. I try to go as quickly as possible, but I still just barely make it in time, though Neville's nowhere to be found. We've got Herbology with the Hufflepuffs, and they're all huddled together on one side of the room while all the Gryffindors occupy the other. It's like that in every class pretty much- our school may _want _to promote inter-House community, but no one really follows it too closely.

My roommates are all sharing a planting table, and I see they've picked one with only three spots. They look at me rather snidely as I walk in, and they don't make any effort to make room for me at their table. Lovely. Bitches. They're all pretty hacked off at me over the David thing- not that there really even _is _a thing, of course, but Elisabeth has convinced them all that I'm the devil. Or something. I don't know.

The boys have all squeezed into one table, so I'm left pretty much alone. Unless, of course, I want to go party it up with the Hufflepuffs (which I definitely _don't- _losers). I choose one of the two seat tables and start unpacking my things and trying to make the table look as full as possible despite the glaring obviousness of it missing half its intended occupants. A second later, though, I'm not alone at all.

"Can I sit here?"

David.

He's abandoned the boys and has joined _me _at my table built for two. _Yes. _Elisabeth whispers something loudly enough for me to hear her but not loudly enough for me to make it out. I smile at her sweetly, and she just shoots me the meanest look you can imagine. Well, ha ha _ha, _Lissy, I got your boyfriend!

He apparently notices the look from Elisabeth and raises his eyebrows at me in silent questioning as I continue setting up my things for the lesson. I don't know why he is acting like Lissy's glare is surprising- he _did _date her for a year, surely he knows how crazy she is.

"She's angry because you're sitting here," I say pointedly in a voice plenty loud enough for her and the rest of the girls to hear. "I guess she's jealous."

I hear a gasp, and I don't even have to look over to know that Lissy, Meg, _and _Susie are all open-mouthed and shocked. The other boys all turn around, too, clearly hoping for a cat fight. The Hufflepuffs, for what it's worth, are at least trying to appear as though they're not listening (even though it's obvious they are).

"I am not _jealous, _Rose Weasley," Elisabeth says, and I know she's outraged because her cheeks have gone bright red. She is still glaring at me like she wants to kill me, and if she wasn't about a billion times dumber than me, she might try to hex me.

"Oh, really?" I ask innocently.

"Yes, _really," _she shoots back.

"Then why are you looking at me like that?"

"This is the way I always look at disgusting slags."

Another collective shock goes through the room, and now the Hufflepuffs aren't even _pretending _not to listen. I can't believe she just called me a _slag! _I almost don't know what to say, but my mother's old advice, _Rosie, you've got to stand up for yourself! _rings through my ears.

"I'd look in the mirror before I started insulting other people, you jealous bitch," I shoot back venomously. "And don't be mad at me just because your ex-boyfriend decided to start hanging 'round someone better!"

David is in shock, but it's obvious that he's enjoying this. He grins at me quickly, and I know he's on my side. Too bad none of my so-called _friends _are. Traitors.

"You're not better," Elisabeth hisses back. "You're just easier."

First of all, I don't even know what the hell she's talking about. David and I haven't even kissed. She is clearly delusional and so jealous that she can't think straight. Second of all… _bitch!_

I don't know where the teacher is, but I don't care. Elisabeth is smiling at me all smugly, and everyone else is staring in shock- probably thinking she's telling the truth or something. _Bitch! _I start to lunge over the table and strangle her, but I don't even move a foot before someone pulls me back.

"Don't!" It's Al. He's apparently left his table just in time and got me by the wrist. David, I notice, hasn't made any effort to start the inevitable impending fight. He's probably looking forward to it even.

"Let me go," I hiss at Al, but he just shakes his head.

"Leave it alone," he whispers in a low voice. "You'll get expelled."

He's right, of course, but I don't really care at the moment. She isn't going to go around saying shit like that and making people think it's true. It's _not _true.

Elisabeth apparently sees this as the perfect opportunity to bust in with another comment. "Yeah," she says brightly. "You don't want to get in trouble, or your mummy may have to come back up here and scold you again."

"Shut up, Elisabeth," Al says angrily. He doesn't really get mad that often, so it's always a bit of a surprise when he does. Everyone seems shocked by his outburst as well, and no one says anything else for a moment. Finally, Al says, "C'mon," and starts pulling me toward the greenhouse door. I don't know what he's doing, as class clearly isn't over (it hasn't even begun!), but I don't care, either. When we get outside, he finally lets go of my wrist and just stares at me silently for a moment. His face is serious, and he still looks a bit angry.

"It isn't true," I say, surprised to hear my voice sounding so shaky.

"I know," he replies quietly.

"I haven't done _anything _with him, she's making it up!"

"I know."

"And now everyone's going to believe her!" Oh, god. My eyes are starting to go all watery. I'm about to cry. _Fuck._

Al shakes his head. "No, they won't…"

"Yes, they will," I say heatedly. "David didn't even say anything!"

"They won't believe her," he repeats.

And then I do start crying. Not a lot, but some of the tears definitely fall, and I feel my face start going all hot.

"We're going to get in trouble for skiving," I choke out, glancing away so that I don't have to look at him why I cry like a little bitch.

Almost as if on fucking _cue, _a voice behind us says, "What are you doing out here?"

It's Neville. He's late to class, but he stops walking when he sees us. His face goes all concerned pseudo-uncle when he apparently spots me crying. Embarrassed, I wipe away at my cheeks quickly, trying to hide the evidence of my tears.

"Rose, what's wrong?" he asks gently, and he places a hand on my shoulder. The awful thing is that he really _does _care about me, and I know it. Sometimes I wish he didn't so that I wouldn't have to feel guilty about lying to him and that sort of thing. I don't even know what to say now, though, as I'm pretty much caught red handed, crying outside of his greenhouses and all…

"She's just got a headache," Al says quickly, and I remember exactly why I love him so much and why he's my favorite person in the entire universe.

Neville puts a concerned hand to my forehead and checks it. "You feel a little warm," he says all sweet and Neville-like. "Perhaps you ought to go to the infirmary."

I shake my head. "No, I'm fine."

"Well, at least go have a lie down," he says, and this time it isn't a suggestion. "Try and take a nap, see if that takes it away."

Oh, I love him, too. Thank you, _thank you. _I know that no one else in the class will mention, so I'm completely off. And I don't even have to sit through class, either.

"Okay," I say quietly, nodding a little. "Thanks."

"Of course. And I hope you feel better," he adds genuinely.

"My things are still-"

"I'll get them," Al breaks in. "I'll bring them to you later."

I nod and give him a tiny little smile. I hope he knows how much I love and adore him and how grateful I am right now. I'm sure he does.

Later, I'm in my dormitory alone. Afternoon lessons should be over shortly, so I'm sitting in bed trying to enjoy my last few minutes of peace before Lissy and the Bitches show back up. They should really start a band. They can sing all sorts of classics like "A Thorny Rose" and "Roses Stink."

I don't even know why I'm so bothered by the whole thing. It's not as if I didn't know it was coming. David _has _been showing me a lot of attention lately, and I certainly haven't been pushing him away or anything. It was only a matter of time before Elisabeth finally flipped about it. But it's still sort of rotten since she _is (was) _pretty much my best friend- at least after Al anyway. But oh well, if she wants to say those things about me, then I guess I know she was never really my friend to begin with. And I hate her.

I hate her more than I hate James, and trust me, that is a _lot. _

I really don't want to be here when they get back. They'll all just gang up on me, I'm sure. There's nowhere else to go, though. If I go down to the Common Room, Neville might randomly show up and realize I'm not sick at all. I can't go anywhere on the grounds for the same reason. Maybe it wasn't such a great lie after all, though I _am _glad to have gotten out of Herbology…

It's actually times just like right now when I wish that I had a good relationship with my mother- or at least an honest one. I feel like this is the type of thing mums are supposed to be good at. But my mum doesn't even know me (and yes, a big part of that is my own fault), so I can't really just go to her with random friend/boy problems and hope she knows what to tell me. She doesn't really talk about her own roommates from Hogwarts, so I doubt she was best friends with them or anything like that, but I wonder if she ever had to be at war with them like I apparently am now. I wonder if they ever fought over boys. I wonder if my mum even _liked _other boys besides my dad… I've never thought to ask. Maybe they fought over my dad- yeah, right. Hah. But that would be sort of funny.

This is all the sort of thing I need to bring up to Melda next week. She will help me figure it all out (well, not the Mum stuff- we've already established that's pretty much unfigurable…). But the friend stuff, yeah. She'll like that, it'll give her a whole new angle on my fucked up head.

And… I hear footsteps.

Wonder-fucking-ful.

I _hate _my life.

--

A/N: Next up… Hugo!


	9. Just Hugo

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 9

**JUST HUGO**

--

_Dear Hugo,_

_Hey, mate. Sorry to hear about the Potions explosion… I wouldn't worry too much, though, Potions is pretty much a waste of time (don't tell your mum I said that). Just learn enough to get through your exams, and you can chalk the rest of it up to bollocks. Well, that goes for pretty much all your lessons actually. Just pay enough attention so that you don't fail, and the important stuff will stick._

_I'm still shocked about the Quidditch situation. I can't believe James cut Al like that, but I guess if the other kid was better, he probably didn't have too much of a choice. You really should have gone out this year, your game's really up since the summer. Oh, well, there's always next year. Speaking of, did you hear the Cannons beat the Lions 250-110? It was a pretty good match, too- I listened to it on the wireless while I was at work. And it takes them out of last spot and moves them up a couple of places, so that's good, too._

_There's not a whole lot going on at home. Mum is working on a new proposal for pixie rights (I dunno, don't ask…), and I've not really got anything too interesting at work right now. Landon has learned to say his alphabet and does a pretty good job of it, though he does tend to forget his P and his R… He asks where you and Rose are every night, and when we tell him, he always says he wants to go to school, too. I tried to explain that he really doesn't want that and that school is pretty shit… then your mum walked in and accused me of trying to turn him against the idea of education before he even learns how to say full sentences properly. She went on for about six hours, I think, but I tuned her out after the first few words (I'm sure she just repeated the same ones over and over anyway…)_

_Well, I suppose I better get back to work. I've got a desk of paperwork that needs to be looked at, so I should get to it. Let me know if you need anything. We miss you. Tell your sister hi._

_Love,_

_Dad_

_PS- I've added a bit of extra spending money, since I know you've got your first Hogsmeade coming up. Make sure to drop in on George and get him to give you some free snackboxes. _

_PPS- Don't tell Mum anything of the previous PS._

That's my dad for you.

At least _he _knows school is shit, though it doesn't matter because Mum definitely doesn't share the opinion, and in our house, it's mostly what Mum says that sticks. Good of him to give me extra money, though. I slip the five galleon coin into my pocket and glance down the table to make sure Rose hasn't seen. If she knows Dad gave me extra money, she'll flip out. Best to keep it a secret.

I can't believe the Cannons beat the Lions… I haven't heard yesterday's scores yet, so I'm really shocked to hear about that particular victory. I like the Cannons, of course, my dad _did _raise me, but even I know they're shit. Even _Dad _knows they're shit. Still, though, we're loyal fans, and it doesn't matter to us if they win a game or if they lose all season (generally, second option). It's hard to catch Quidditch matches here, since we're not supposed to have wirelesses or anything like that in our dorms, so I either have to get scores from Dad or read them in _The Daily Prophet. _

As far as our Quidditch here… well, Dad's got to be absolutely mental to imagine I'd try out for anything that James is the Captain of. He cut his own brother, he definitely wouldn't put me on the team… Not that James is really mean to me, at least not like he is to a lot of other people (Rose), but he isn't always nice, either. Mostly, I just try to stay out of his way and not give him any reason to humiliate me. Lily says he does that stuff for attention and maybe she's right, but I don't _want _to be the center of attention. Especially not if I'm center of attention because my older cousin is making me look like an idiot in front of half the school. If I _do _tryout for Quidditch (and that's a big if because I have a serious fear of rejection), I'll wait until James is long gone, that's for sure.

"Anything interesting happening?" Lily asks, watching as I fold the letter back up and stick it into my pocket with the coin.

"Landon can say his alphabet. Well, almost," I correct myself. "Apparently he forgets a couple of letters."

She smiles and starts buttering a croissant. "I bet your mum loves that."

"Well, Dad told him that school was shit, and Mum walked in and heard. So I'm pretty sure she didn't love _that." _

Lily laughs and offers me half the croissant, which I take happily. "Landon will probably be six feet tall by the time we get home for Christmas."

This happened last year. Well, obviously he didn't grow to six feet tall… but when we left, he still looked like a baby, and when we got home for Christmas he looked about ten times bigger. It does kind of suck, not being able to be around him that much. I really do like my little brother, and I wish I got to see all the new stuff he always seems to do. But I'm always stuck at school, and when I go home, Landon won't ever even leave Rose's lap practically. I guess that's good for her, to have Landon so attached to her, I mean… but it'd be better if she got to see him a lot, too. We're missing everything by being here.

"Dad gave me extra money for Hogsmeade," I tell her, making sure, of course, that Rose doesn't hear.

"Really?" She frowns. "I wish _my _dad would give _me _money."

"You can have some of mine," I offer quickly. Why am I such an idiot? I know Lily wants new things, but her parents won't give her anything apparently. Now I feel bad.

She shakes her head, though. "No, it's fine. It's not your fault that your parents love you and that mine hate me."

"They don't hate you, Lily." We've had this same discussion a million times. Lily thinks that her parents not buying her new shoes automatically means that they must hate her, when obviously it just means that they think she's got enough shoes as it is. Luckily, we found the one she was missing (it was under the sofa in the Common Room somehow…), so at least she's got her school shoes and a couple pair of trainers. I don't really think she needs anymore, but I'm not going to tell her that, of course. I do feel sort of bad for her, though, and I'd even buy her the shoes she wants if I had enough money, which, of course, I don't.

I'm glad it's Sunday and that we haven't got any classes today. That means we can just spend the whole day doing whatever we want to do. It's starting to get chilly, so going outside is going to mean putting on jackets and trying to stay out of the wind. I'd rather just spend the day in the Common Room to be honest. There's loads of stuff to do up there, but Lily is going to insist on going for a walk.

And she does- about five seconds later. "Maybe we should go down and see Hagrid today."

Lily loves Hagrid. She thinks he's amazing, and yeah, he's cool… but I sort of think he's a bit wonky. I mean, he's this giant bloke who's lived forever at this school, and he always means well, but sometimes he ends messing things up pretty badly.

Still, though. I nod and shrug. "Sure. That'd be cool."

"Do you know where Amanda is?" she asks, glancing up and down the table as though Amanda would sit with anyone else. She wouldn't, of course, so I don't know why Lily's bothering.

"Haven't seen her." I start picking at the fruit salad on my plate. "Was she still sleeping when you came down?"

"No, she was gone already."

"Maybe she's with her dad?"

Lily shrugs one shoulder. "I guess…" Then, "Why isn't Rose sitting with her friends?"

Rose is sitting down toward the end of the breakfast table with Al and the rest of the boys in their year. The girls are all several seats away, and anyone can tell that they're sitting apart for a reason. She hasn't been sitting with them for awhile, though, and I know she fancies David Jordan because she's spent the entire year so far trying to flirt with him. And since David and Elisabeth dated all last year… well, if I were going to make an educated guess, I'd say it has something to do with that.

I tell Lily, and she just sorts of nods slowly and continues to watch them. She _hates _Rose, so she's probably turning cartwheels inside over the fact that Rose has apparently been ostracized from her friends. She thinks Rose is the meanest person in the world and always goes on and on about how Rose gets away with everything and blah blah blah. And yeah, Rose can be mean sometimes, but she's not the meanest person in the world or anything. She just has moments when she forgets her temper and that sort of thing, but who doesn't? And she's wrong about Rose getting away with everything because she doesn't- trust me. She fights with my mum nonstop whenever we're home, and she usually ends up in big trouble for it. There's only sometimes when Mum lets it slide- usually when she thinks it's going too far or something. See, Rose is really smart, but she's been through a lot. And I feel like Lily and a lot of other people forget why she is the way she is. It's not her fault, but people don't ever want to consider that.

I feel bad for her honestly. I mean, yeah, she's mean to me a lot of the time, but she doesn't mean it. She just doesn't know how else to react to situations, so she always goes on the offensive. Nobody else understands, though, because they weren't there and they don't know what happened. I was with Rose through a lot of that time when she was kidnapped, and I know exactly what was going on. She really _was _brainwashed, and she's still not over it. I think she _still _feels badly that those people are in Azkaban. She had to testify at their trial, and she literally got on the stand and said she didn't think they did anything wrong and that all they did was care about her. Trust me, there was a big controversy over _that. _After all, Mum pretty much runs the whole department that was trying to convict them, so it looked really bad when her own daughter appeared to be working for the other side. The newspapers went crazy all over again, and even though we thought it was mostly over, it definitely wasn't. I think Rose still feels that way, too, at least to an extent. She never, _ever _talks about it, and if someone dares to bring it up, she yells at them and tells them to fuck off… But yeah, I'm pretty sure that somewhere in her head, she still feels like what they did was okay and still believes what they said to her.

"Are you paying attention to me?" It's Lily, and I realize I must have dazed out for a second. She's looking at me all annoyed, and I can tell she thinks I'm rude for not listening while she talks.

"Sorry," I mumble.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "I _said _that we need to find Amanda before we go down to see Hagrid because she'll want to go with us."

I nod. "Oh. Yeah."

Amanda Longbottom used to be really annoying, and I only ever put up with her because she was friends with Lily. But ever since we've started school, she's been really cool, and now she's one of my best friends. It's hard to get away with stuff, though, since her dad is Head of our House and all. He always keeps up with what we're doing and he's got access to everything, so we can't really keep anything from him or get anything over on him or anything like that. He's cool, though, and it's sort of nice having someone around who actually seems to care about us. A lot of the teachers seem infatuated with the idea of our parents, so sometimes they're overbearing or overprotective or let us get away with things we really shouldn't get away with, so it's nice to have Neville, who isn't starstruck in the least, to look after us.

We're apparently done with breakfast because Lily is standing up and straightening her jumper. I look down at my plate, which is still half-full and then back at her. She looks impatient, so I regrettably leave my unfinished breakfast and follow her out of the Great Hall.

The corridors are only slightly scattered with people, as most are either at breakfast or still in bed. A lot of people don't even make it down until well after lunch on Sundays, so it's not really a surprise. I don't know where we're going, so I just follow along beside Lily and listen as she starts complaining about something. I don't even know what it is. I know it's rude not to pay attention, but Lily's always complaining about something. If it's not her parents, it's her roommates, and if it's not her roommates, it's the teachers. It's always _something. _Over the past thirteen years, I've got pretty good at tuning her out.

We end up back at Gryffindor, and the Common Room is empty. "I'll go and see if she's upstairs," Lily tells me, and I nod distractedly and sit down on one of the good chairs. The bad thing about being a Third Year is that, while you're older than the really small kids, you're still way down the line when it comes to getting good seats in the Common Room. The only time I ever get to sit in one of these overstuffed chairs is when the rest of the room is empty. Usually, I'm stuck with the other people in my class in one of the cold back corners that only has chairs where the springs are pushing through.

I'm tired, and I close my eyes. I can probably go to sleep if I keep them shut long enough. I sort of hope Amanda _is _upstairs and that she and Lily get distracted and forget to come back down. That way I can take a morning kip (granted, I just woke up about forty minutes ago). No such luck, though, a minute later, I hear what sounds like a stampede of hippogriffs thundering down the stairwell from the girls' side. It's Lily, and she's apparently found Amanda, as they're both giggling madly over something I'm sure is probably not that funny.

"Wake up, lazy arse!" Amanda laughs, and she kicks my shin with her foot. It doesn't hurt, but I rub it unconsciously anyway.

"I'm awake," I mumble, opening one eye and staring at them. They've both put jackets on over their jumpers, and I'm reminded of the fact that we've got to walk all the way down to Hagrid's hut. Blah. I leave them temporarily to go up and get my own jacket, and I'm surprised to find three out of my five roommates still asleep. They aren't usually the type to sleep in _this _late, but I guess they stayed up pretty late last night. Trying to make as little noise as possible, I go over to my trunk and start digging around for my jacket. While I'm up there, I go ahead and empty my pockets of the letter and money Dad sent and drop them into my trunk with the rest of my stuff.

It's cold outside- really rotten cold. I sort of hate Scotland. Yes, it _is _pretty, but it gets so bloody cold _so _fast. It's barely October, and already it's as cold as London in mid-December. And contrary to my feelings on Scotland, I _love _living in London. True, I didn't grow up in the center of it like Amanda did, but even in the residential areas, you really get the true London experience. Lily's not as lucky to have grown up in London like Amanda and me- her parents moved them to St Albans when James was just a baby, so Lily's never known any difference. At least she's _close _to the city, though; the rest of our family is scattered out through the sticks somewhere. It's sort of nice to visit them, though, like when we go to the Burrow for the day- it's very nice and quiet… but I wouldn't want to live there.

Hagrid's hut is way down by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and I won't lie- that place scares the living shit out of me. My dad told me there's a nest of Acromantulas live there… I don't know how Hagrid can live down there. He is a bit mad, though- Dad also told me that he kept one of the Acromantulas as a _pet _once… I wouldn't keep _anything _with more than four legs as a pet, I can definitely assure you of that!

We knock on the huge door, or Lily does anyway, I just stand there rubbing my arms and trying to make them go warm. It seems to take forever for Hagrid to get to it, but he finally opens the door and lets us in. He has to be getting on in years, but you can't really tell it from his face. He's always smiling and happy, and the huge scraggly beard covers up any lines he may have there.

"Well, if it ain't meh three favorite people!" he says happily as he holds the door open for us. All three of us slip under his arm without so much as ducking our heads. "I got the tea put on, so yer three jus' take a seat o'er there." He points us toward the humongous sofa by his fireplace. All three of us fit on it easily, and Lily still even needs a bit of help climbing up, as she's still rather short. Once we're all situated, Hagrid goes to work readying the kitchen. "Alrigh', you lot?" he asks, and the kettle blows.

"We're alright," Lily answers for us all. I guess she takes me freezing to death as being just spiffy. "How are _you, _Hagrid?"

"Never better, never better," he says dreamily as he pours us each tea into the huge set of teacups he's got in his cupboard. "I made yer some treacle, jus' in cased I was to have some visitors, yeah?"

Number One in my dad's pre-Hogwarts lessons was to never, ever eat _anything _Hagrid makes- especially not treacle. I got my sweet tooth from Dad, so I know he can take most anything as long as it's got sugar… so if he says not to eat it, I better damn well follow his instructions! As a result, I've never actually tasted it, though I can imagine perfectly well what it tastes like given the fact that one piece probably weighs more than my little brother. I'm never rude, though, and I always sneakily wrap it up in my napkin, thank him, and tell him it's delicious.

He serves us the tea and fudge and sits down opposite us in that huge chair of his. The whole cottage seems to shake a bit as he falls into the cushions, and he laughs happily.

The tea tastes a bit salty (as it somehow always does…), but I drink it anyway. At least it's hot. I pretend to nibble on the treacle, and I see Lily and Amanda doing the same thing. None of us ever actually eat it.

"So how are yeh parents?" Hagrid takes a giant bite out of his own piece and seems to have no problems with it whatsoever.

"They're being dreadful as always," Lily answers dramatically. She even puts out a little sigh to accent her cruel reality. I try not to laugh.

"Aw, it ain't so bad, Lily, now is it?" Hagrid asks jovially.

"It is," Lily affirms. "I don't know what I ever did to make them hate me so much."

This time, I really _do _laugh, mostly because Amanda catches my eye and we both crack up. Lily scoffs at us, clearly wondering how in the world we dare to _laugh _at her, and I really do feel a bit bad. I didn't mean to laugh. Hagrid cuts in before she can start yelling at us, though.

"They don't hate yer, they _love _yer, Lily. I don't know why yer'd say such things!"

"They're punishing me because I needed a new pair of shoes and dared to ask them for it!" she replies indignantly, trying and failing to cross her arms in a huff, as she's still got the cup and plate in both her hands.

"_How _are they punishing you?!" Amanda asks, apparently no longer able to take it. She's leaned around me and stares at Lily.

"They won't buy them for me!"

"Well, did yer tell 'em you needed 'em?" Hagrid asks, and his eyes drift down to her barely month old trainers.

"Well, I don't technically _need _them," she replies, and her cheeks turn a little pink. "But I want them and haven't done anything not to deserve them, have I?"

I don't get Lily sometimes, really. I mean, yes, she has always been my favorite cousin, and we're definitely very close, but sometimes… sometimes I wonder how it's possible that she's turned out like this. She didn't used to be like this, all greedy and demanding. She used to be really respectful of her parents and always polite to everyone. Now she's just like James, only younger and a girl. She always talks about how awful Rose is, but she's really just as bad, only maybe in a different way. Sometimes I even think she's jealous of Rose because Rose is a much better bitch than she is. And at least Rose _knows _she's a bitch, Lily actually thinks she's nice.

"Well, maybe yeh parents are just savin' up for Christmas or somethin' like that, yeah?"

Hagrid isn't going to tell her she's a spoiled brat, though he clearly feels that way.

"They don't _need _to save up," Lily huffs. "That's the point! There's no reason I can't have nice things."

I am so sick of hearing her whine about this. Of course, I'm not going to say anything, though. I don't want her to be mad at me. She is really good at holding grudges- I think she gets that from her mum. Actually, I think she gets _everything _from her mum, except maybe her girliness because Aunt Ginny isn't really that girly at all. It has to do with the fact that she has so many brothers, but I guess that didn't hold true for Lily (though two older brothers is definitely a different situation than six…). But yeah, Lily is very much a girl, and it's starting to get annoying. Thank god Amanda is still normal at least.

The conversation continues, and it's mostly just Hagrid trying to appease Lily while she insists on feeling sorry for herself. I stop listening, mostly because I don't have a very big attention span for anything not related to Quidditch, but also because I'm thinking about Rose and how she must feel to be fighting with her friends. She's got a lot more friends than I do, and they're really important to her. I'm sure it bothers her a lot more than she's ever going to let on if they're mad at each other… I wish I could talk to her about that sort of stuff, but she'd probably just tell me to shut up and leave her alone. So I won't.

Rose and I are so different. She thrives off of attention and is very loud and dramatic. I'm just the opposite. I'm not as shy as, say, maybe Al, but I'm definitely not as confident and demanding as my sister. I think that bothers her, too, because our parents tend to treat us differently. She gets handled with kitten gloves, and I get treated like a normal kid. It's not fair actually, but what can I do? I hope Rose isn't bothered by it too much.

I just want her to be okay.

--

A/N: thanks for reading, and please review!!


	10. Scorpius, Hated by All

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 10

**SCORPIUS, HATED BY ALL**

--

I often wonder if Salazar Slytherin had some sort of physical disorder that kept him constantly hot. That's the only excuse I can imagine for why he would choose to put his Common Room in the fucking dungeons of an already overly-drafty castle. It's _freezing _down in Slytherin, and it doesn't matter how many fires are lit or how many blankets you pile on your bed, you're still going to freeze to death in the middle of the night. This is something I learned a long time ago, but I'm still not completely used to it.

My parents never told me how cold it would be. Before I started Hogwarts, they used to tell me stories about Slytherin and describe the Common Room and the dormitories- all green and silver and elegant… but they never told me I'd need to wear three pairs of socks to keep warm. But then again, I guess there's a lot they never told me.

I wake up freezing my balls off like I do every morning. No one else is up yet, I can tell without even opening my eyes. Darren Huffinton is snoring as loudly as ever, and I can hear everyone else's even breathing. The sun isn't all the way up, not that you can really tell a lot from down here, but once it's all the way up, the dormitory usually at least fills up with light. It's still sort of dark, but I can hear the birds, which means it's probably sixish. There's no point in trying to go back to sleep now because if I do, then I'll probably just end up pissing myself off when I have to wake up in an hour.

Morning showers are few and far between around here, mostly because the hot water sucks and not that many people can use it at once (not that that many people wake up early enough to take a morning shower to begin with anyway). I take advantage of the early hour and grab one of the first showers of the morning. It's fabulous, mostly because it's got plenty of hot water and also because it's the one part of the day where I don't have to listen to a bunch of idiots talk about idiotic things. That's the worst part of school- the idiots.

I don't talk to many people at all, I guess, but it's not because I'm stupid or socially retarded or anything like that. I just don't have anything to say most of the time because they usually talk about such ridiculous things that make absolutely no difference to anyone in the real world about anything. In fact, I get sick of listening to the stupid school gossip that everyone else is obsessed with, and I hate hearing which singer is having an affair with which professional Quidditch player every other week. It's stupid and it's juvenile and it's senseless. And I don't have a lot of time for senseless things.

If there's one thing my father's taught me it's to never appear too eager to follow the crowd. Buying into all of that gossip (whether it's school or "celebrity") only takes me away from more important things, like studying and keeping up a good family image. That's another really important thing. Family image. At least it is in _my _family. The bad part, of course, is that we don't have that great of an image. One half of the Wizarding population thinks we're all evil and deserve to be in Azkaban, and the other half thinks we're a bunch of traitors who deserve something much worse than Azkaban. So, really, it's a lose/lose situation.

Not that I had anything to do with the stuff that gave us that image, of course. I wasn't even born yet, after all. But my father and my grandfather have worked very hard to instill a sense of pride in me and to make sure I know not to put much stock into other people's opinions of our family because, as they love to say, other people are nearly always just jealous.

Bullshit.

I can assure you right now that there aren't too many people in the world who are jealous of me, _that's _for damn sure. Father and Grandfather might like to pretend as if they don't have tarnished names that are looked down upon by virtually _everyone, _but that's a bit harder for me to do, seeing as how I have to go school with all their enemies' kids. So yeah, bit harder for me to ignore it and fake oblivion. And all the kids at school know all about everything that happened all those years ago and they've all been brought up to hate me. Even long before any of them ever knew me.

So, yes. It sucks.

That's why I just stay out of the way as best I can. I don't go round drawing attention to myself or trying to make myself noticed. I don't like people noticing me actually. Whenever they _do _notice me, it's usually just to say something rude or try to make me look like an idiot. A bunch of people here have this wrong impression that if they insult my father that I'll get really upset and go mental on them, but it's definitely not like that. I don't even notice when people insult him anymore because I'm so used to it. Besides, all of Slytherin _loves _him when he sends my team new brooms every season. They all think he's the coolest dad ever then or something. But he's not. He's not the worst, but he's not the best.

I make it to breakfast early, and I'm one of the first people in the Great Hall. I'm definitely the first person to the Slytherin table. I sit down, and I'm sure I look like a giant loser, eating breakfast all by myself and all. But I don't care. I'm used to it. I don't really pay attention to anything around me except for the eggs that I'm scooping onto my plate. They're a bit runny, but that's alright. The toast is perfectly browned, so that sort of makes up for it. And there's fresh blackberry jam. That's my favorite. I get to work eating, and I eventually pull out my homework and start giving it a second glance-over. I want to make sure everything's alright on it because Father told me this is the most important year of my entire Hogwarts education.

"_You've got to pay attention to everything, Scorpius_,_"_ he said as he wished me goodbye on September 1st. _"Your O.W.L.s are extremely important and will determine a huge portion of the rest of your life. It is important to excel at them and to earn as many O.W.L.s as possible if you want any sort of meaningful career."_

So all year I've been trying really hard to pay attention and take in as much as possible. I've been studying more than before, too. I don't know why I'm so eager about the O.W.L.s, but I know part of it is just to impress my father and make him proud of something for once. I feel like I've pretty much been a letdown to him my entire life, so I'm ready to finally start doing something that makes him feel something other than mild exhaustion. Well, he's usually at least a _bit _interested in the Quidditch- at least when I win anyway, which will hopefully be more often now that Gryffndor's gone and stuck an eleven year old girl into their Seeker spot. She does look pretty good, though, I have to say. Adrian, our Captain, made us all go watch their trials- I guess we were spying or something. They took for-fucking-_ever, _and I was definitely bored by the time it was over. Good thing we don't need to fill any spots this year because I'd hate to have to sit through _another _daylong waste of watching idiots fly about. Well, honestly, who knows what's going to happen… Adrian might go all James Potter on us and decide he needs to make sure we're the best for every position. If that happens, I might go the way of Al and get replaced by a Firstie. Of course, Adrian's not my brother, so it'd be _slightly _less humiliating.

My homework looks perfect, and I don't find any mistakes. Of course, that doesn't mean there _aren't _any, just none that I can find. I'm sure Professor Montague can find some if he tries hard enough. I hate Potions. You'd think I'd love it, right? Seeing as how, Montague is the only professor in the entire school who doesn't have predisposed hate for me and all… But he's so bloody annoying, and he constantly acts like a child all the time, bickering with the students like he's their classmate and not their teacher. Not to mention, of course, that he's crap at what he does. He doesn't really know much about Potions at all, nothing that our textbook can't teach us just as well anyway. When Father was at school, Severus Snape was the Potions Master. _He, _apparently, was an expert on his subject, and that's probably why Father gets so frustrated when I don't jump for joy over his favorite subject. Maybe it would be mine, too, if I didn't have such a fuckwit for a teacher. Of course, Severus Snape is also considered the biggest traitor in the world by many people (even bigger than my family), so… I don't know. We don't go into that in my house.

The Great Hall starts filling up just around the time that I finish my breakfast. All the tables start getting crowded, so I pack up my bag and prepare to leave.

"Move it, queer!" A hard shoulder slams into mine, and I look up to find, surprise, Christian Flint glaring down at me with that stupid bullying look in his eyes. Now, make no mistake, I am certainly not stupid enough to get into a fight with Christian Flint- he is approximately three times my size and probably ten times as mean. So, no. I don't react. I simply move aside as far as possible to let him pass. He's so big, though, that he can still barely make it through, but he manages.

Christian Flint is one of, oh, about a hundred people who love to slam up against me on a daily basis. They also love to call me brilliant names like "queer." It's so insulting I can barely stand it… Honestly, though, I don't know why so many people 'round here think that's the worst thing you could possibly call someone. It's probably because all the idiots who love to go 'round spewing it out are the ones who are probably holed up in their dorms at night sucking each other's cocks. Or something, I don't know.

I'm still way ahead of schedule, but I figure I might as well go down to the dungeons. It's as cold as the Slytherin Common Room, but I'm not surprised, as it stays this temperature year round. Montague's not here yet, and as it's the first period of the morning, the classroom door is locked. I set my bag down onto the stone floor and then slide down the wall to sit beside it. I slip my hands up into the sleeves of my jumper, and I can practically hear my mother's voice in my head. _"Must you always stretch your clothes like some common street urchin?! Honestly, Scorpius, you should try having a bit of respect for your things!" _

Mother's not so bad actually. She's annoying when it comes to appearances and things like that because she always wants the best of everything and wants us _all _to reflect that… but she at least shows a _little _interest other things having to do with me besides Quidditch. She listens (or at least pretends to listen) when I talk about things that are going on at school, and she always responds to my letters with actual sentences and answers, as opposed to my father's letters, which usually read:

_Dear Scorpius,_

_Things are fine at home. Study hard and stay out of trouble._

_Sincerely,_

_Father_

Now you're probably thinking I've got serious deep-rooted Daddy issues, aren't you? Well, if you are, you're wrong. I don't have any issues about it really. It is what it is, and that's all there is to it. Actually, it's _my _father who has the Daddy issues. His relationship with _his _father is far more fucked up than mine is. That's why I don't blame him for anything. Honestly, where was he _supposed _to learn how to be an engaged father? Anyway, it's not even as if he planned on having a son. My mother was pregnant before they were married, so obviously a mistake happened somewhere… But we don't go into _that _in my house, either.

Great, here come the Gryffindors- or a couple of them anyway. Meghan Thomas and Elisabeth Richardson are laughing ridiculously loudly over something that probably isn't all that funny at all. I'm apparently either invisible or they're completely ignoring me, as they don't even acknowledge my presence. I don't mind, of course. They're both rather annoying, so I'd much rather them ignore me than try to make inane small talk with me. I've no interest in pink nail varnish or the hair on the lead singer of the Wicked Wizards after all. I glance at my watch and see that there's only ten minutes left until class is supposed to start. Usually most people would be down here by now, but I guess a lot of people must have slept late.

More people eventually come down, and Montague finally shows up to let us in. It's already three minutes after the time class is supposed to start, but we all go in quietly and start setting up at our tables. I have to share with Justin and Darren, and yes, I say _have _to because if I had the choice, I'd sit by myself and work alone. Both of them are pretty shit when it comes to this stuff, so I always end up doing all the work anyway, only I have to split my grade with them, which I don't particularly think is fair.

Just as we're all unpacking our things, the door to the classroom opens again, and Rose Weasley flies in with David Jordan. They both look out of breath, either because they just ran down three flights of stairs or because they were snogging in a broom closet somewhere. Or maybe they're just really out of shape, I dunno. Montague glares at them the second they enter and barks out, "Ten points from Gryffindor!" Now, as a Slytherin, I shouldn't really be saying this, but I hardly think it's fair to take points off Gryffindor for them showing up late when the teacher himself was late. And of course, I _don't _say it out loud. I'm not stupid.

Neither one of them says anything, either, but, of course, David wouldn't. And Rose has apparently turned over a new leaf that's somewhere along the lines of _don't argue with the Potions Master anymore or face expulsion. _It's sort of disappointing actually. I'm always kind of amazed and dumbfounded whenever she stands up to him because no one else ever seems to have the balls to do it. I certainly don't, and I don't remember ever seeing anyone else do it, either- at least not to the extent that she does. But I guess she knows if she keeps on, she's going to end up in huge trouble, so she's stopped.

Both she and David slide into seats at a table with her cousin. He looks at them with raised eyebrows, and they have some sort of silent conversation. I always think it's weird how they seem to be able to read each other's minds just by sharing glances. I don't know anyone in the world who could read my thoughts just by looking at me, but I haven't got any close friends like they do, either. Nor do I have a bevy of cousins running around school. I wonder if they know how lucky they are to have such a big family and always have someone around to talk to. I don't have any brothers or sisters, nor does my father. My mother has a sister, but she hasn't got any kids. So I've always been alone in my family, maybe that's why I get so annoyed by my classmates. Still, though, I wish there was at least _someone _to talk to now and then.

Rose is tying her hair up. She always does this when Potions starts, I guess to keep her hair away from her face as she works. She always uses this pale green ribbon, and she even dropped it the day she got kicked out of class. I picked it up for her and gave it to her… of course, I made a total prat of myself in the process. Surprising, right? Yeah, of course. I've spoken to her maybe, oh, six times in the past five years, and I've never once had a conversation with her that didn't end awkwardly with me being embarrassed out of my head. Probably, of course, because I'm completely obsessed with her.

Okay, so maybe obsessed is pushing it. Or maybe it's not. I don't know. I do think about her pretty much _all _the time, and I stare at her whenever I get the chance. I know, creepy, right? But it's not like I'm doing it on purpose, it's just… it's just that she completely entrances me. I know that sounds totally gay, but that's the only way I can think of to describe it. I try to stop, but I just can't help it. It's like I watch her automatically or something… I probably need serious help because I'm pretty sure I'm bordering on stalking, but I'm too embarrassed to ask anyone if it's normal.

Rose is pretty, _really _pretty. She's got so much hair, and it's all this perfect shade of red and just full of bouncy curls that always fall into her face. And she always does this thing where she pushes them away and tucks them behind her ears… only it never works, of course, as they fall right back out a second later. She's got these really pretty eyes, too- they're really dark, and they contrast ridiculously against her skin, which is really rather pale. I'm pale, too, but in a different way. I'm pale like vampire pale- like the sunlight hates me or something. Rose has sort of milky-like skin, that's more creamy white than just lack of all color white (like me). She's also got freckles, light brown ones that go just over the bridge of her nose and on the tops of both her cheeks. Oh, god, now you probably think I'm crazy.

Maybe I am.

I yank myself back to reality and try really hard to pay attention to Professor Montague. He's explaining the Draught of Peace, which is apparently supposed to calm the drinker to a point of pure elation. I should really learn how to make this so that I can slip it to my father should I fail any of my O.W.L.s. After all, he rarely raises his voice, but when he does… well, let's just say I'd rather not be on the receiving end of it. Not that I'm going to fail any of my exams, though. I'm not. I really am going to work extra hard at it this year and do my best to pull passes in everything- high passes even, if I can manage, Os and Es and that sort of thing.

Rose will probably get thirty Os. Not that there's thirty subjects, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if she managed to pull it off. She's the smartest person I've ever met in my entire life. And I don't just mean regular smart, she's a _genius _really. She knows _everything, _even more than most the teachers. Her mother, of course, is very high up in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry, and from what I hear, she's a bit of a genius herself. Of course, my father calls her something completely different whenever he happens upon her name in the newspaper or something, but I don't really enjoy those particular words. And Father's never got over his school rivalries anyway apparently, as he still holds Harry Potter's name in the utmost of contempt. So what else am I really to expect?

Fuck.

Here I am, dazing off again. I need to focus. I study the instructions on the blackboard and look at my tablemates to see if they're even going to _pretend _to care. They aren't. Darren is drawing a picture of a naked girl with giant tits on the ledger of his book, and Justin is making googly eyes at Susannah across the room. It's disgusting really- the two of them. I wonder why they haven't started sitting together in class yet, as they're rarely ever apart otherwise, save a few meals and after curfew. Susannah's alright, sort of cute, I guess. But she's definitely not model material, and she's definitely not as beautiful as Rose.

Unconsciously, I glance back to the Gryffindor side and see that she's having no problems whatsoever at focusing on her potion. She's standing over the cauldron and meticulously measuring each ingredient before carefully adding it. She's biting her lip in concentration, and she doesn't seem to notice anything else around her. Her cousin is staring glumly down at his book, obviously lost (he's sort of crap when it comes to Potions), and her boyfriend (I suppose it's her boyfriend anyway, they're certainly acting like it lately) is leaning back in his chair and letting her do all the work while he stares at her arse and legs. I guess I can't blame him. If Justin or Darren had legs like that, I'd have no problem at all sitting back and watching them work from behind. Rose leans forward to peer into the cauldron, and her skirt rides up just enough to give a good shot of the back of her thighs, and _fuck, _why did I have to be Sorted into this god-forsaken House that sits all the way on the other side of the room? It doesn't stop me trying to look, of course, but a loud clatter startles me enough to wake me up. I realize that the clatter has come from me, and I look down to see the vile of hellebore extract I was holding has now fallen out of my hand and shattered all over the floor. Everyone in the entire class stops what they're doing and looks at me.

Humiliated, I immediately drop to my knees under the table and start gathering up the broken shards of glass. Montague comes over and tells me to leave it, though, and immediately mends the vile whole again, though the extract is now lost all over the floor. People snicker as I stand back up, and I can't bring myself to look at any of them. I hate when people stare at me and even more when they laugh at me… Most other people in this room would stand up and laugh at themselves after breaking a vile, they certainly wouldn't feel like I'm feeling right now. Like I want to literally _die._

"Way to go, arsewipe," Darren whispers as people finally start going back to their own work.

I don't say anything. I just walk silently to the supply closet to get a replacement vile. I still feel like everyone's looking at me, but I don't know if it's all in my head or if they really are still watching. I keep my head ducked and return to my cauldron. I finish the rest of the potion without stopping. It turns out alright, I guess, as Montague examines it and doesn't find anything to criticize. He criticizes a lot of people's, though, and even calls the one that the Gryffindor girls (minus Rose) did "a disgusting excuse that doesn't even _slightly_ resemble the appropriate potion." The only other table that manages to squeak by critique-free is the one Rose, Al, and David are sharing. Montague seems put out by this, but I suppose he can't outright make up things to hate about it. Not in front of everyone at least.

Rose looks pleased with herself, as she often does, and she leaves the classroom hand in hand with David while Al struggles to clean up all their ingredients. I think this is sort of shitty, but, of course, the exact same thing happens to me a second later, and I find myself alone at my own table, as Darren's run out of the room like his pants are on fire and Justin's hurried over to Susannah as quick as possible. I put everything away and turn the fire down before I take a sample of the potion and hand it in to Professor Montague. He looks at me a bit oddly as he takes it and labels it.

"You need to be more careful," he chides me. "These ingredients don't need to be wasted."

"Yes, sir," I reply, and I look down at my shoes because now I'm embarrassed all over again.

I try not to pay attention to anyone else who might be having a laugh at my expense as I grab my bag and walk quickly out of the classroom. I just want to go somewhere and hide. Every day is like this, and I _hate _it.

I don't know why I have to be _such _an idiot.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading, reviews are adored!


	11. James, Love It

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 11

**JAMES, LOVE IT**

--

I've often wondered why girls like sex.

I mean, honestly, what do they get out of it? Especially teenage girls because, let's face it, there aren't too many teenage boys around who care enough to spend a lot of time making a girl feel good, if you know what I mean. Personally, I don't see the point myself. It's rather difficult, number one, and number two, it's bloody exhausting. I mean, why does it have to take so much work? With blokes, it's real easy- just wham-bam-thankyou-ma'am, you know? But with girls you actually have to work at it, and that's just too much effort.

So, yeah, I always wonder what makes them like it so much. It's a bit raunchy, isn't it? It's got nothing to do with nail varnish or pink frills. Well, I suppose you might say, _"Your manicure looks very nice, Susan," _or, _"Emma, that's a lovely pink bra,"_ if you need to soften them up a bit. But generally, it's just a lot of sweat, a lot of swear words, and a lot of messy, slapping skin. It seems like something girls would throw their noses up at and say _Ew! _to.

But they don't.

Not many of them anyway. There're always going to be a couple of prudes who think they should save it for marriage or wait for The One or some bollocks like that. I call bullshit. Mostly because I don't believe in The One. What does that even mean anyway? People always say that you base your opinions off of personal experience, so where does that leave me? I'm supposed to look at my parents, I reckon. Yeah, so they've been married a million years, so what? That doesn't mean that there's no one in the _whole world _that's better suited for them. How can they even make that claim about _The One _unless they've literally met every single person in the whole entire world? They can't. No one can.

So yeah, I feel like if you're waiting on The One, you're probably going to die a virgin because it's impossible to meet every single person in the whole world and legitimately make that claim.

It doesn't matter, though, because for every whiney little girl who claims she's waiting for The One, there are two more out there willing to slip their knickers off without being asked twice. And bless them for it. I mean, it's a real sacrifice on the part of women to put up with the sweat and the swearing the slapping skin just so their blokes can get a piece. I guess that's why men spend so much money on shit like flowers and candy- got to give the ladies what they want, they deserve it after all.

There's this one girl, Kate Milton… she loves shagging. I don't know why, like I said before, I don't see how she gets much out of it. But she loves it, _really _loves it. I suppose I am rather good at it, though, and she always tells me so. That's why she keeps coming back for more and more, I reckon. Kate's the type of pretty that's so _cute _you almost feel guilty sticking your hand down her knickers because she just always looks so playful and, I dunno, innocent maybe. But she's definitely _not _innocent- no matter what her cute, blonde pixie cut and big blue eyes might lead you to believe otherwise. She's not one of the dirty girls, though, the real slutty girls who give it out to everyone and are just plain nasty. I don't like those girls. It's one thing for a boy to get around (they've got a lot of sampling that needs to get done before they settle down), but when a girl does it… well, it's just disgusting. But no, Kate might be very far from innocent, but she isn't a slag or anything like that. She doesn't go 'round showing her goods off for every dick in the school. She just likes me as far as I know, and I like it that way.

Kate's quite good at what she does, too. She really gets into it, and obviously it's a great lift to the ego when a girl lets you know that she likes it (though _why _she does is clearly beyond me). She's the type of girl I would have as a girlfriend if I was going to have a girlfriend, which clearly I'm not. I don't believe in limiting yourself like that, at least not until you're married (and even then, I don't think it'd be _so _much of a sin to go out and get it elsewhere every now and then). But Kate's quite a nice girl. She's funny and sarcastic, and she's more like a mate than anything really (though I don't normally make a habit out of shagging my mates, as most of them are blokes and buggering isn't something I'm particularly interested in…). But you know, if a girl could _really _be a friend, then that's what Kate would be. I don't think boys and girls can really be friends, though, not without there being _something _else there that keeps it from being completely platonic. I just don't believe it. I mean, my dad grew up and had a "best friend" that was a girl, and it's gross, yeah, but I don't believe for a second that he never once thought about shagging her. You can't spend _that _much time with someone of the opposite gender and just completely forget all about sex. I just don't believe it. And obviously their other best mate thought about shagging her quite frequently because look how they ended up. And yeah, okay, I'm not going to sit here and think about any of their sex lives because I haven't got a sick bucket close by, but I'm just saying. That's why I don't have friends that are girls. Or girlfriends.

But if I was _going _to have either, Kate would be ideal.

She wants me to meet her in the second floor storage closet. That's another thing I like about her- she just gets straight to the point. A lot of other girls are always like, _"Let's go for a walk around the lake," _or, _"Will you take me to tea in Hogsmeade?" _But not Kate. She doesn't care about that sort of shit. She just wants to get straight to the fucking without having to worry about the pre-show. And I adore her for it.

She passed me a note during dinner that said to meet her at 11. It's 10:50 now, and nearly an hour past curfew. Kate doesn't have to worry about that, though, as she's a Prefect and allowed to be out after 10 o'clock. I don't have one of those lovely little badges, though, so I have to rely on something much different.

Thank god for Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

I nicked the Maurader's Map from my dad's desk drawer when I was thirteen. I only knew about it because Teddy told me in confidence the summer after he left school. He'd had it all that time and had only recently given it back to my dad. He told me where Dad put it and exactly how to use it. So I went in and nicked it. When Dad finally realized it was missing, I played dumb, though I'm sure it didn't work. He let it slide, though, and now I've got something to use for leverage whenever I need proof that he likes Teddy better than me (something he always claims is not true but is obviously a lie).

Dad may have let the Map's disappearance slide and obviously knows fully well that I've got it, but he's never given me anything else. Namely _The Cloak. _To be fair, he didn't give it to Teddy, either, at least to my knowledge. In fact, Dad claims it doesn't even exist, which is obviously a load of shite, as my uncle told me it did (my uncle who married his best mate who was a girl and had three children with her, just to clarify). I know that Invisibility Cloak exists, and I know Dad's still got it somewhere. I don't know where, of course, though Merlin knows I've looked for it about a thousand times. Al's probably got it in his trunk somewhere. I wouldn't be surprised one bit (Dad likes _him_ better, too).

I always have to hide the Map, as I don't want anyone else knowing I've got it or sneaking it out to use when I'm not around. Even my closest mates don't know about it. Right now, I've got it tucked into the pages of my Transfiguration book, and I have to make sure none of my roommates are paying attention to what I'm doing. Most of them are downstairs, only Brampton and Derek are up here, and they're both scribbling away madly at last-minute attempts to finish their Potions essays. I mutter the incantation to activate the map and watch as names appear all over, though most are concentrated in each of the four Houses. There are a few people wandering the halls, a few Prefects and a few people who are obviously sneaking about after curfew. My brother's apparently on duty tonight, as he and Meghan Thomas are currently in the History wing. I know it's got to be Prefect shit because Al certainly doesn't have the balls to take Meghan out by herself willingly. He's scared shitless around her, and while it's mildly amusing, it's also a tad embarrassing.

"Where are you going?" Brampton asks as I pocket the Map and start pulling on my trainers.

"To shag Kate Milton," I reply without flinching. Both Brampton and Derek look at me and grin knowingly. "So see you dickwads later. Don't wait up!" I flash them a grin of my own and take off downstairs.

The Common Room is still rather crowded, and I make the mistake of walking past a chair that my cousin is sharing with her newfound boyfriend. I feel a bit sick as I actually catch a glimpse of tongue. "Oh, for fuck's sake, get a room," I say, completely disgusted.

Rose stops what she's doing and looks up at me lazily. "It's eleven o'clock," she says pointedly.

"Yeah, I know, shitface, thanks for that," I reply sarcastically.

"I hope you get caught and get expelled," she retorts, not bothering to change the tone of her flat voice one bit. Her boyfriend, David, seems completely glazed over, apparently still in the moment before when he had a girl's tongue down his throat.

"I hope you find out you're adopted and go to live with your real family at the zoo. In Australia," I add, just for good measure, of course.

Rose doesn't seem fazed. "You're such an infant."

"And you're such a brat-faced bitch."

A brat-faced bitch. _Really?_

Rose apparently catches this awful excuse for an insult as well because she snickers and rolls her eyes before going back to David. Damn.

Rose 1/James 0.

Oh, well. No matter. I've got a very eager girl waiting for me, so I leave the pukefest and step out of the portrait hole and into the corridor. According to the Map, I shouldn't run into any problems on the way down to the second floor. I still keep an eye out, though, as you can never be completely certain. By the time I finally reach the appropriate closet, Kate is sitting on the edge of a storage crate and drumming her nails against the top. They're painted, her nails, I mean, but they're not pink like most girls, they're a really silvery sort of blue. It fits her better than pink anyway.

"You're late," she observes, gazing up at me sort of disinterestedly.

"I'm here," I reply. It doesn't matter if I'm late, she would have waited all night, and she knows it.

"Good." She smirks at me and stands up. "I was about to start without you."

And that's that.

I want to ask her to go ahead and start so that I can watch, but the words get lost somewhere between my mouth and her tongue, which come together before I can even think. I love this girl. Seriously. I mean, not love like _that, _but I love how forward she is and how she doesn't wait for me to take the lead. She just knows what she wants, and she goes for it. And she's quite good at it, too.

A storage closet is probably not the ideal spot for sex, just so you know. In a perfect world, there are beds and fluffy comforters and soft pillows. However, in a boarding school full of teenagers with curfews and roommates and teachers and Prefects… well, storage closets are pretty damn useful.

She must _really _be hard up because I don't have to do _anything. _She's got my shirt off and has me slammed against the door before I even realize what's happening. She takes her own shirt off, too. She does that a lot actually. A lot of girls think it's better when you undress them, but Kate doesn't see the point, I guess. Her hair, which is already quite short, musses up and shoots all over her head in little spikes as she whips the shirt over her head and drops it to the floor somewhere beside mine.

I'm probably one of the few blokes in the world who prefers a bra to bare tits. Now don't get me wrong, tits are nice and all, but bras are just… I don't know, they're just sexy. I like the way they look and how naughty they seem, like they're just these tiny little pieces of cloth that are hiding some sort of crown jewels or something. I just love them. Kate's is bright green, she never wears plain black or white like a lot of other girls, she always has some vivid neon color that stops you dead. She's got quite nice breasts actually, they're just about the perfect size- not tiny but not overly huge, either. I'm not really that into the massive tits that those models in the dirty magazines always have, it's just not very attractive me. Of course, I don't _mind _it, but as long as they don't look like a boy, I like girls in the less is more category.

On a scale of one to ten, I'd rather Kate an eleven when it comes to kissing. I mean, obviously I love fucking her, but she is amazing to snog. She does all sorts of things with her tongue that you probably didn't even know was possible. That also comes in handy whenever she gets round to blowing, too, of course, but there's none of that today. She tastes a bit like caramel, and I think about asking her if she's been eating sweets, but who has time to talk when a girl is sucking on your tongue and digging silvery blue nails into your lower back?

The rest of the clothes come off quickly. Trousers and pants, jeans and knickers. And then there we are, stark bollocks naked in a supply closet just meters from the Transfiguration classroom where we're both to report at promptly a quarter of nine tomorrow morning. It's something fabulous, let me tell you. The way Kate Milton shags is like the way Viktor Krum plays Quidditch- absolutely _flawlessly. _

When it's finished, I'm so knackered that I have to sit down. There aren't many options, so I choose that same crate that Kate was sitting on when I came in. She doesn't join me. She just starts getting dressed, and I watch her. Her knickers don't match her bra. She slides them up her legs, and I wonder if she cares that they're purple while the bra is green. A lot of girls, I think, probably do care, though I don't know that many blokes who probably even notice. Of course, most of those prats are probably just so thrilled to be getting a piece that they don't even bother to take in the details.

"What?" she asks, obviously she's noticed that I'm staring. She pulls her t-shirt back over her head and straightens it out a bit before bending down for her jeans.

"Don't you care that your underwear doesn't match?"

"Do you?" She looks at me as she yanks the jeans up and starts doing up the zip.

"No."

"Then why would I?"

"I don't know. I just reckon a lot of girls would is all."

"Well, a lot of girls are idiots," she retorts frankly. "And you look like a sodding idiot yourself sitting there all starkers like that." She throws my pants at me.

I realize she's right. Blokes aren't as attractive as girls are when they're naked. And I'm not just saying that as a heterosexual male, either. It's just that there's nothing really especially _wowing _about the male body. Not like there is about the female body anyway- with the tits and the waist and the arse and the thighs and the legs… I hurry up and put my clothes on before I get sidetracked with these thoughts and end up either having to rip her knickers off again or do a bit of self-servicing when I get back to the dorm. That'd just be a damn shame.

We make plans to meet back up in a couple of days. She says she'll let me know the exact where and when after she takes a look at her Prefect schedule. She tells me not to schedule any midnight Quidditch practices, and I promise not to. And then that's it. She heads off toward Ravenclaw, and I take off toward Gryffindor. I feel very relieved and relaxed. She certainly took care of any sort of pent up tension that I might have, and bless her for it is all I've got to say.

Kate's a lovely girl. A lovely, _lovely _girl. (And yes, of course, by lovely I mean completely and totally fuckable).

I take my time getting back to the Tower. I haven't checked the time, but it's got to be close to or right at midnight by now. The Common Room'll be mostly packed in, I'm sure, and I'm not exactly sleepy enough to fall straight to bed. So a nice, leisurely stroll 'round the castle sounds rather pleasant actually. I don't see another soul in the corridors, not even Peeves or any of the ghosts. Feeling rather carefree, I start humming a little song.

I'm not even sure what I'm humming, but I stop mid-tune when a voice ahead says, "What is _that?"_

I don't have time to hide, as the owner of the voice turns 'round the corner at that exact second, and I find myself face to face with Meghan Thomas and my dear old brother. It's Meghan who's spoken, I know this obviously because it was a girl's voice. She stops when she sees me, and Al does as well. We all look at each other for a second, and I realize I forgot to check the Map before heading back.

"Did I interrupt something?" I ask jokingly. Obviously I know they're still doing their rounds, though it should be about time for them to be finished.

"It's nearly midnight," Meghan says, and it reminds me of Rose who said virtually the same thing (about a different hour) just before I headed down.

"It is," I agree. "Shouldn't your shift be over?"

"Are you wearing lipstick?" Al asks, squinting in the hallway light and peering at my face. I wipe at my mouth, and sure enough, red shows up on my hand. My brother, the poor sod, obviously doesn't realize that when you're snogging a girl, it's quite likely to get some of their makeup on you. That's probably because he has zero experience in that department, of course.

"Kate Milton," I say, by way of explanation. Al says nothing. Meghan rolls her eyes.

"You're disgusting."

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," I tell her sweetly. "Now, shall we?" I hold my arm out in the direction of the Tower figuring that we may as well all walk back together.

"You're not supposed to be out," Meghan says pointedly. Jesus Christ, what is she, my mother?

"Well, thank you, love," I reply sarcastically. "I'd offer to let you punish me, but that might upset other boys who are lusting after you."

I don't look directly at Al, but I can see his face turn redder even in this corridor lighting. Sweet. He's _so _easy.

"We're supposed to write it up," Meghan replies, completely nonplussed. I'm impressed. She wasn't fazed a bit by the forwardness.

"Yes, but you're not going to, so why are we wasting time out here? It's freezing."

"Who says we're not?" Al asks, speaking up suddenly, and I turn to him slowly and stare at him. He has a weird sort of look on his face, almost a determined look.

"Well, I suppose _I _do," I say pointedly. "Otherwise, I'd be forced to kick your arse."

I'm only half-joking. He seems to know it, too, and I can tell by the way he just looks back at me all serious. He isn't backing down, and if he wasn't such a git, I'd almost be impressed. He doesn't normally stand up to me, and when I tell him to do something, he usually just does it. He knows I'll make him regret it if he doesn't, so he doesn't normally tempt me. But he's been all out of sorts ever since the whole Quidditch thing. He's barely talked to me, and when he has, it's usually been something snide or snarky. I haven't bothered to say anything because I guess I sort of deserve it a bit, really. I mean, I'd be right hacked off if _he _was Captain and cut _me. _So I don't say much of anything back. I didn't even write back and tell my parents off when they both wrote me super long letters letting me know what a giant prat I am. I just let it all go. But now I'm about over it.

"If we didn't, that wouldn't be fair to everyone else, now would it?" he shoots back, and those stupid green eyes that look just like my dad's pierce into me almost eerily. "And aren't you the one preaching fairness all the time, James?" he asks snidely. He says that, of course, because I said all that shit about being fair and letting everyone have a go at the trials and not playing favorites when stacking the team.

What a little arsehole.

Meghan is just looking on and not saying anything. I can tell she's a bit surprised and that she wasn't planning on reporting anything at all. It's Al who is making the threat, and she's got no choice but to just stand there and watch. Al never once breaks eye contact with me, not until he pulls out a little notebook and starts scribbling away, of course. I lunge for it, but he turns away and tucks it into his pocket before smirking at me triumphantly. Where did this little bastard come from?

"Turn that in, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life," I say seriously.

"I'm not scared of you, James."

Is this kid for real? "Well, you bloody well _should_ be!"

Al doesn't even flinch. "What are you going to do, hit me?"

While hitting him sounds amazingly appealing right at the moment, I'm not even remotely interested in violence right now. If he wants to do this, then we'll fucking _do _it. "Do you _really _want to start this war?"

Al just looks at me and as calmly as possible replies, "_I _didn't start it."

Fine. _Fine. _"Look, you little shit," I lower my voice to make sure he knows _just _how serious I am. "You asked for it. Now go cry to Mummy and Daddy when you regret it."

I'm all the way down in his ugly little face, but he doesn't seem even remotely fazed. Instead, he just repeats an earlier sentiment. "I'm not scared of you."

Since he's into repeating himself, I just do the same. "You _should _be. You fucking _should _be."

And with that, I leave him and his little girlfriend alone and stalk off back to the Tower. The little bastard wants to fuck with me… Well, we'll see how he copes when I fucking destroy him.

Because I _will._

--

A/N: I guess I'm really trying to make people hate James… but I just can't make _myself_ hate him! Oh, well… let me know what you think, thanks!


	12. For the Last Time, Not Rosie

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 12

**FOR THE LAST TIME, NOT ROSIE**

--

Halloween.

It's my favorite time of the year. I love it because it means _fall. _The leaves are all on the ground, and the air is perfectly crisp and cool. It's the best season out of the whole year, though in Scotland, we don't get very much of it. But I love the bits that we _do _get, which is why I love Halloween.

And of course, Halloween also means the first Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. I love Hogsmeade, too. It's the best thing about school actually, and I feel sorry for the First and Second Years who have to miss out, but I guess everyone's got to pay their dues, don't they? I've saved money all summer, and I've got a good bit of pocket money to spend. My dad also sent me a little extra. He said he sent some to Hugo (because it's his first trip and all) and felt guilty so he sent me some as well. I don't care if that makes me a second thought or not, money's money, right? That's the best thing about my dad, too- he always does stuff like that behind my mum's back.

I usually go into the village with the girls. Sometimes we team up with the boys, and I even occasionally go off with Al on my own. Today, though, all the girls have gone without me. Susie, I assume, has jetted off to Slytherin to meet Justin, and Lissy and Meg have been gone since before I woke up. They're all still giving me the silent treatment, but I don't really care. Meghan speaks to me sometimes (if no one else is around), but she can stuff it for all I care. I wish Al wasn't lusting after her something mad, though, because it makes it bloody difficult to get him talking badly about her (and obviously I want him to badmouth all of them, no exceptions- they're all Giant Bitches after all…).

Speaking of Al, the big news is that he turned James in for breaking curfew last week. Now, you're probably thinking that this is what he's _supposed _to do as a Prefect, but you have to remember that they're brothers. Not only that, of course, but they're part of our family, and the kids in our family (fight as we may) have an unspoken bond between us that absolutely forbids things like ratting each other out over anything. It doesn't matter who it is. We just don't do that. Now, yes, there are occasional exceptions. I've tattled on my brother, and he's tattled on me, we've tattled on our cousins, etc. But tattling over petty things like saying a bad word or telling fibs is one thing. Actually writing your brother up and turning it into the Headmistress is quite another. _I _wouldn't even do that, and I despise James. It's not even the fact that he got James in trouble (James has had a million detentions, he doesn't care), it's the fact that he actually broke the code.

Of course, James _did _bring it on himself, I suppose… The whole Quidditch debacle _was _pretty shit.

Long story short, though, James isn't allowed to Hogsmeade today. He's serving his seventh (out of ten) detention and repotting bubotuber for Neville. Of course, Neville will probably let him off easy, and they'll probably end up talking Quidditch or some shit like that. But oh well, I'm quite fine with it myself. There's no chance of me running into him, and a day without James is always a happy day in Rose-land.

I'm alone in my dormitory, and I check the floor-length mirror just to make sure my outfit's alright. Normally, I would just ask my friends, but seeing as how I've lost all of those recently, I don't suppose I've got much other choice than to look for myself. I don't want to make it _too _obvious to David that I'm dressing up for him, but I do want him to know that I've made a bit of an effort. After all, this is the first time we've actually _been _anywhere since we've been going out. Actually, I'm not totally positive that we're actually _going out, _as nothing's been made official yet, but it's certainly close enough. He isn't spending time with any other girls, and I'm not chatting up any other fellows. We spend a lot of time doing things that people who are properly going out do- holding hands, flirting, even snogging. It started out as just a bit of kissing, but we've taken it a bit further lately, though we've not had too much time alone to ourselves at all.

So that's why Hogsmeade is important. We're going together. Alone together. Like a date. Like something official.

I've put on jeans and a cute green top, though, of course, I've got to cover it up with my jacket- it's very cold outside. I'm wearing the shoes that Mum bought me for my birthday this summer, they're quite expensive, but I'm sure David won't know that. Oh, well. I even put on a bit of makeup. Normally, I don't like a lot of makeup. Some mascara is really all I ever wear, as I think too much looks cheap, and I'm just not that into it all. Today, though, since it's a special occasion, I add a bit of eye color and some lippie to the mix. Not too much, though, just enough to make him notice. My hair's hopeless, of course, so I just leave it. I could try to flatten it a bit with some product, but without any help (and since I'm _alone, _I certainly have no help), it would take me three hours to make even a bit of progress. So I don't even try. Gah, stupid hair. I don't know _what _possessed my parents to breed when they knew fully well that any child of theirs stood a good chance of ending up with this ridiculous awful cross between both of their hair.

David's already in the Common Room when I finally make it downstairs. I suppose he's gone to breakfast, as he holds out a half-eaten muffin and offers it to me. I decline, of course, not only because I'm not hungry in the least but also because eating after someone else (even someone I've started swapping saliva with on a regular basis) grosses me out a bit. I just don't see how people do it so nonchalantly. I just can't.

Of course, I just say, "No, thanks, I'm not hungry." I don't want him to think he disgusts me or anything.

David is oblivious, of course. He just shrugs and finishes the muffin himself. "You ready?" he asks, and I try not to notice the bits of food that fly out of his mouth as he talks with it full.

I nod. I don't know why I'm feeling nervous, it isn't as if we haven't known each other for five years after all… It's just different, I guess. David doesn't seem to share the nervousness, and he takes my hand and starts tugging me out into the corridor. The castle is really bustling this morning- the only two reasons this many people are ever up on a Saturday are 1) Quidditch and 2) Hogsmeade. A few people watch us as we walk by, and I enjoy it immensely. There are all sorts of whispers about us, most of them originating with Elisabeth and the Bitches, I'm sure. I thought I'd mind, but now it's starting to become amusing. It's fun to watch people wondering about us, all of them making guesses about things they've got no idea about.

The walk to Hogsmeade isn't _too _far, but it does take a fair bit of time. David and I walk slowly, hand in hand, and we talk. We talk about school and about our friends and even about James. It's nice. I like walking about with him out in the open, holding hands where everyone can see. I wish my roommates were within seeing distance. Maybe we'll (purposely) run into them (a few times) while we're down at the village.

Hogsmeade is an adorable little place. Don't get me wrong, I'd never want to live here or anything, but it's awfully fun to visit. The town's decorated up a bit for Halloween, and Honeydukes has got a huge display of special Halloween sweets in the window. I want desperately to run in and ravage them all. Of course, I don't want David to think I'm a hog, though, so I refrain myself. The sweet shop isn't the first place I want to visit anyway.

Weasley Wizarding Wheezes is one building past Honeydukes. It's in the building where Zonko's used to be apparently, though I've never known any difference myself. This branch of WWW has been here since before I was born. It's my favorite one, too, I even like it better than the original main shop in Diagon Alley. There are three other branches in the UK and even one international shop in Paris. It's the largest wizarding joke and novelty chain in all of Europe, and WWW's _extremely _successful and well-known. Even if my parents weren't Harry Potter's best friends, people would still think I was important- just because my last name's all over a billion different products.

WWW is packed, of course. My uncle George, who owns the whole chain, doesn't normally work at this branch, but he always comes over on Hogsmeade weekends when he knows all the students'll be coming down. I think he brings half the staff in from his other branches to work, too, just because they really are _that _busy. I tug David toward the store, and, of course, it doesn't take much coaxing at all to get him to follow me. When we make it inside, I have a glance around and don't spot Uncle George right off. We head toward the back of the shop, and it takes a good bit of squeezing through people to even get to a little more open space in the back. There's a big purple curtain hanging in a doorway with a sign that reads "STAFF ONLY," but I disregard the sign all together and push through the velvet curtain. No one's going to stop me, after all- my uncle's the boss. David follows me into the back storage room, and there's no one there. At least I _think _there's no one…

"Oi, Rosie, a brain that big, and you don't know how to read?" Uncle George steps out from behind some box and nearly scares me shitless. I probably jump six feet into the air. "Staff _only."_

"You about gave me a heart attack!" I say seriously.

"Ah, that heart's too cold to have an attack," he jokes. Then he laughs and hugs me tight.

Uncle George is my _favorite _uncle. People expect it to be Uncle Harry, you know, saved the world and that whole bit… Uncle Harry's my godfather even, so yeah, it'd probably be a good guess that he'd be my favorite. But truthfully, Uncle Harry (and all the rest of my uncles for that matter) sort of pale in comparison to Uncle George when it comes to things that really matter- like _fun. _He never takes anything seriously at all, and I don't ever in my whole life ever remember seeing him get really angry about anything. He's just really fabulous like that.

When he lets me go, though, he looks down at my hand that's still half-hooked into David's. "What the _hell _is this?" Uncle George asks, looking at us both as if we've gone mad. I just smile sort of awkwardly, and Uncle George shakes his head in disbelief. "Not _this _prat, Rose," he says, shoving David's head back. "Can't you find something better than _this?" _It's a joke, of course. David's dad is Uncle George's best friend, and David's nearly as highly ranked as my cousins and me when it comes to being WWW royalty.

I just smirk in return, and David grins as well. It makes me feel good that he doesn't get all embarrassed or yank his hand away. Of course, Uncle George isn't really someone to get embarrassed in front of- not about stuff like this anyway. He's extremely cool and laid-back, so we both obviously know he's joking. Now say, though, if it were my Uncle Percy or, god forbid, my _father, _it wouldn't be so amusing.

We end up with three bags each filled with products that Uncle George shoves at us. We pay for nothing, of course, though he does promise to bill both of our dads (he won't). We spend the next hour or so perusing Honeydukes and a couple of other shops up the road.

I'm starting to get hungry, but as soon as I start to verbalize this to David, he grabs my hand and looks at me all eagerly. "I've got something I want to show you!"

I almost ask what it is, but I find out a second later as he drags me to a little off road. This is definitely not impressive…

It's an odd little alleyway. I can't really imagine why there aren't more people around, as it is in a rather congested part of the village. It seems, though, that no one knows of this little back road that leads off from the High Street. That's okay. I know exactly what David wants to get up to, and it's much better without an audience. Not that we know too much about that, seeing as how there's _always _a bloody audience! There's only so many empty classrooms in that school, so most snogging's done right out in the open in the Common Room. It's not as if we're the only couple doing it out in the public like that, but it doesn't make it any less awkward and intimidating. Of course, it's also sort of fun because all of my former friends (namely Elisabeth) get to watch and make snide comments. I've decided not to be bothered by them anymore. Instead, I'm going to rub it in the face of everyone who has a problem with it.

I'm right about what David plans on getting up to, and he lets me know when he pulls me behind a large trash bin and starts kissing me like he won't be able to breathe otherwise. It's not the ideal place to be properly kissed, of course, behind a rubbish bin, but I suppose it's not that big of a deal. He kisses quite well actually, and if I'm being honest with myself, I know that he learned most of it with Elisabeth. This should probably bother me more than it actually does, though, but I just tell myself to overlook it.

David is my fourth boyfriend (if we're going to call him that). I have officially dated three other boys and kissed two more. Out of all six of those boys that I've kissed, David is the only one who has pushed it a bit further than minor snogging. Well, Joseph Bricks did try to put his hand on my breast last April, but I slapped him across the face so hard that he never even spoke to me again (I assume we're officially broken up by default). I haven't slapped David, though, that's for sure, and he's felt me up good and proper on several different occasions. I don't know what it is about him that's made me abandon all my dignity, but he's turned me into some wild, hormonal teenager who spends more time fantasizing than studying. So yes, if my grades drop this year, David Jordan will be one-hundred percent completely to blame.

He's got me by the shoulders and is kissing me so hard that I feel like my lips are going to be bruised. He's got his tongue in my mouth, and I can't help the stupid little sound that I make instinctively. I find my feet moving of their own accord as he uses my shoulders to push me back up against the side of the building. My back hits the wall, and he moves so close to me that I don't even think a piece of parchment could pass between us. His hands let go of my shoulders, and he starts groping me all over my hips and my chest. Finally one hand goes up under my blouse and the other yanks at my hair a little bit. I don't mind, really, and I find my own hands slipping under the back of his jumper and rubbing at the skin there.

I'm aware of what we must look like to anyone who might happen down this way. I try to tell myself to be embarrassed, but I can't work out how to care at the moment. I'm also aware of the fact that there are more than just other kids wondering around- there are teachers, one of my parents' best friends, _and _my uncle, all of whom are in the nearby vicinity of where I'm standing getting felt up by a rubbish bin. But oh, well.

David stops kissing me and starts sucking on my neck. I don't mean little light pecks, either- I mean honestly _sucking. _He even bites me once or twice. I'm going to have the hugest bruise tomorrow, and then everyone in the world is going to know what I got up to today. My head instructs me to tell him to stop because it's going to be awfully embarrassing when the evidence shows up… but I guess my head stopped communicating with my mouth, since it seems the only thing my mouth can presently do is hang halfway open and murmur a bunch of incomprehensible things that even _I _can't make out. He's impossibly moved even closer, and his knee's somehow ended up between my legs. I shock even myself when I shift around a bit just to see what it feels like.

And… _wow._

My eyes fly open as soon as this happens, and finally my brain starts working again. This has got to stop now because obviously it's starting to go a bit too far. I force my hands back around to David's front and put them against his chest as I turn my head away from his mouth.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and his voice sounds weird, much lower than normal and obviously a tad breathless.

"I just think we should go back," I manage to force out. My own voice sounds strange, too, and I take a deep breath.

"Go back where?" He's looking at me like he's thoroughly confused, and I suppose I can't blame him.

"To the others," I say, still struggling with the breath. His leg is still firmly planted between my thighs, and I'm crushed so tightly against the wall that I can't even move away. ''I promised Al we'd meet him at the Three Broomsticks," I lie quickly. I haven't promised Al anything at all, but I'm desperate. I don't need to be alone with David right now.

"_Fuck, _Rose," he says indignantly, and he sort of glares at me a little bit. "What are you playing at anyway?"

"Huh?"

"You're out here doing all this, and then you just up and _stop? _What's the big damn deal?"

I'm in shock. Literal shock. I just sort of gape at him for a moment before finally getting my wits back around me. "Do you _honestly _think I'm just going to lose my virginity out here beside a fucking _rubbish bin?!"_

I don't know why I said it. My cheeks immediately heat up, and I mentally kick myself for even hinting at something that might say I'm thinking about having sex with him. He stares at me, obviously shocked himself, but then the shocked look fades into an almost-smile.

"We can go somewhere else," he says smoothly, moving back in and kissing my neck again as his hands slide down to my bum.

"David, _stop," _I say insistently, twisting to get away, but it's no use.

One of his hands comes round to my front and starts fiddling with the button on my jeans. "Come on, Rosie…" he whispers in my ear.

"David, I said fucking _stop!" _I finally find enough strength to push him away, and I immediately start straightening myself up. "And don't call me Rosie."

He's angry, furious even. "I'm sick of this bullshit," he bites out irritably. "Fucking cock tease." He glares at me, and I don't even know what to say back. I've never seen him this mad before. "I should have just stuck with Lissy- at least she let me undo her zip."

Seriously? _Seriously?! _What is going on here? I can't even process it, it's just _ridiculous. _Five minutes ago we were fine, and now he's calling me a _cock tease?!_ I just stare at him. I have nothing to say.

He mumbles something else that I can't hear, and then he stalks away. I watch him go, and I have no idea what to do. Fuck. My eyes are watering, and now I'm going to fucking _cry. _All I want to do is get back to the castle, so I break into a near-run to try to get back as soon as possible. I pass the Scamander twins and some of their Ravenclaw friends. They look at me oddly, and Lorcan sort of gives me a half-wave that I don't even acknowledge.

I don't want to talk to anyone, so I'm a little put out when I pass Al who looks at me like I've lost my head or something. He's outside of the Three Broomsticks with Meghan, and I nearly look twice just to make sure I'm seeing correctly and that he really is talking to her. Alone. He is. Wonderful.

I try to run past them, but, of course, Al grabs my arm and stops me. "What's wrong?" he asks concernedly, and the tears I've been forcing back immediately burst through and start pouring down my cheeks. He looks more than a little alarmed and obviously has no idea what to say.

Meghan places a hand on my arm and says, "Rose, what's happened?" all gentle and sincere-like.

I shrug her away and say, "Leave me alone." Or at least that's what I _want _to say- I'm crying, so it probably comes out like, "_Leeefmayone," _or something.

She frowns and looks a little awkward. When it's clear that Al is too scared to say anything else, though, she tries again. This time she speaks really quietly and says, "Are you okay?"

I just cry harder, and when she puts an arm around my shoulder and leads me away from the crowd of people who have now stopped to watch me cry, I let her. She takes me around the corner to a little empty doorway of an abandoned shop and puts both of her hands on my shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she repeats, and I look up to see that she honestly looks like she's being serious.

"What do you care?" I snap, not willing to fall for this if all she's trying to do is get gossip out of me so that she can go laugh it up with Lissy and Susie.

But I know she's not. She just looks me in the eye and says, "Because I'm still your friend, Rose…"

And so I tell her everything. It floods out of me before I can stop it anyway, and it just feels so nice to finally have a girl to talk to again that I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to. When I'm done, she just hugs me and lets me cry, and I realize just how much I've really missed my friends. She doesn't say anything at all, just lets me get it all out while she hugs me and occasionally pets my hair.

"Why are boys such bastards?" I ask, finally pulling back to look at her.

She just shakes her head. "Because if they weren't, girls wouldn't ever have anything to talk about, I guess."

I laugh a little, despite the fact that I still feel like crap. It's nice that Meghan hasn't once said, _"I told you so,"_ or, _"That's what you get for going out with him." _I know she probably wants to, but she doesn't.

I make a promise to myself right then and even verbalize it to Meghan. "I'm off boys for good."

--

A/N: Wow, I was a little surprised by some of the reviews on the last chapter- I expected people to hate James and plenty did… but I was a little shocked to see that some didn't hate him at all! I think people will start coming around to Rose pretty soon, if they haven't already. And, of course, there's plenty more people coming up as well. So, please review and let me know what you think!


	13. Al, Bearer of Important News

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 13

**AL, BEARER OF IMPORTANT NEWS**

--

Important news first.

Victoire had her baby. Finally. She was pregnant nearly three weeks longer than she was supposed to be, and I guess people were starting to get worried. But she finally did it, and now there's another baby in the family. And Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur are grandparents. This is the part that's rather amusing actually, as I can't imagine either of them, _especially _my aunt, being a grandparent. I'm quite sure that Aunt Fleur will fall over and faint the first time someone calls her Grandmum or Gran. So it's probably better if they find another name, one that doesn't sound quite as _old, _to call her. At least she has an eleven year old son to keep her feeling young, I suppose.

Speaking of Louis, he isn't very happy. He got the news first, of course, and he told the rest of us. His dad sent him a picture, and we all looked at it. Lily went all sweet over it, but none of the rest of us managed to see anything too precious in a pink squishy ball that was screaming (thankfully the photo had no volume). Louis said the baby looked like a squealing radish, and I think we all (minus Lily) secretly agreed. Louis is used to being the baby in that family, especially considering the age difference between him and his sisters, so I don't know how well he'll get on with the new baby, even after he gets over the initial shock.

But she is here- a brand new little baby girl with little tufts of purple hair. Her name is Dora Jolie. Dora is after Nymphadora, of course, who was Teddy's mum. It's also Victoire's middle name, and I think they both agree it's a bit horrid, so they thankfully thought better than subjecting yet another poor, innocent, child to it- shortening it to Dora is probably a very good option. Jolie, I guess, is so Victoire can carry on pretending that she's French. And yes, I _know _that she really _is _half-French, but Victoire is about as anti-French as they come really. I think she half speaks the language but does it terribly, and she has said over and over again how much she hates Paris and how badly it smells there. For as long as I can remember, she's always hated the French holidays her parents dragged them on every year, not like Dominique who's obsessed with all things French and even sometimes spoke with a French accent when she was a kid so that people would forget she was really raised in Suffolk by the beach. No, Victoire is completely immersed in all things English, so I suppose calling her baby Jolie is her lame attempt to make up for horrifying her mother for twenty-one years.

So yes, Important News Number One: Baby Dora Jolie Lupin.

Important News Number Two: Rose and David are officially on the outs.

This happened at Hogsmeade. Rose told me at first that he got mad at her because she wanted to go meet up with some other people. She told me the real truth later. Rose and I don't lie to each other, we never have. I feel like there's nothing I wouldn't tell her, and even if there was something I didn't want to tell her, I'd eventually have to. Just because we don't have secrets. She said she didn't want to tell me what really happened with David because she was embarrassed and because she didn't want it made into a big deal. But she obviously eventually _did _tell me. And I was _really _mad. But I didn't make a big deal out of it because Rose made me promise not to. I didn't tell anyone else, and I don't plan on it. But it does make it rather difficult not to smash David's head into a wall every time I see him.

Now Rose is supposedly off boys. She thinks they're all prats and wants nothing to do with any of them. I'm the only one in the entire universe that she can stand (at least so she says), so she's taking a stand against all the other ones. They can all curl up and die for all she cares (or at least so she says).

The good thing that came out of all that, though, is that Rose doesn't hate Meghan anymore. Meghan was the first person she told everything to, even before me. I guess that's okay because girls tell each other that sort of stuff easier than they tell it to boys, even boys who are their closest friends and family. She still hasn't made up with Lissy yet, probably because Lissy refuses to hear her out. I think she broke some sort of girl code or something, and apparently that's a world class sin amongst girls. But maybe they'll work it out. Right now, though, Meghan's going back and forth between them trying to get things sorted. I haven't seen Susie in about twelve years (exaggeration), though, so I don't know if she and Rose are on speaking terms again or not. But at least Meghan is, so now at least Rose has stopped trying to get me to badmouth her.

Which brings me to Important News Number Three: I am no longer scared to talk to Meghan.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not going out of my way to have secret, private conversations with her or anything like that, but since we've started doing weekly patrols, I've finally gotten to the point where I can have an actual conversation with her without wanting to puke. It's really a big accomplishment when you think about the fact that I've been trying to talk to her on my own for five years now. I need to be careful, though, because I'm starting to talk _about_ her more and more, and I think people may start to catch on soon. And I definitely don't want that because even though I can talk to her now, I certainly don't want her to know I'm in lust (kill me, I've turned into a teenage girl).

I don't know what to do about it, though. There's absolutely no way I can tell her how I feel because that's possibly the most mortifying thing I can imagine happening. My dad once said that asking a fifteen year old girl out was scarier than facing down Voldemort, and I completely believe him. They're just so bloody _terrifying. _Rose says to just suck it up and make a move because Meghan's "completely over her lust of JD," but that's easy for her to say because she _is _a fifteen year old girl. She probably has no idea how scary they really are.

But one day at a time, right? Yeah. One day at a time…

Important News Number Four: Quidditch. First match of the season. Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw.

Now I know I said I was going to support anyone who _wasn't_ Gryffindor, but I can't bring myself to do it. After all, it's not the rest of the team's fault that my brother is a bastard, is it? And those used to be my teammates- they're my friends. And Gryffindor is my House. So if I were to show up to the match wearing blue instead of red, I'd probably be outcast for life, and let's face it, I need all the help I can get in the social aspect of life…

So here I am, on my way down to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of my friends, something I haven't done since I was a First Year, minus one match in fourth year when I had to sit out because of a broken arm that was still healing. It's strange to be going to a match where Gryffindor is playing and not heading straight to the dressing rooms. I'm not exactly _happy _about it, but it's not as bad as I expected, either. I've sort of just come to terms with it, and now I just hope Gryffindor does well (though I still hope James makes an arse of himself in front of any and all scouts that might actually show up to watch).

Rose is happy again. She is practically skipping down the hill to the pitch. I think this is mostly to do with the fact that she just found out we're getting to take practice OWLs in two weeks. She was the only one who actually seemed excited by this when it was announced yesterday, and she hasn't stopped smiling since. Leave it to her to get excited by a _test- _even a practice one. She is laughing about something with Meghan, and they're several steps ahead of me. I'm hanging back a bit with Allen who is, of course, still caught up in his Rose fantasy, despite the fact that she has rejected him over and over and over and recently sworn off boys for good. He's an odd kid, Allen- not exactly weird, but definitely not completely normal, either. If it wasn't my cousin that he was so creepily obsessed with, I might feel a bit bad for him.

The stands are already pretty crowded by the time we make it down there. Everyone comes out for Quidditch, even the Houses who aren't playing. I'm not surprised to see more blue than red. Gryffindor's commonly considered to be the best team this year, so it's only natural that the other Houses will root against them and hopefully diminish their chances of winning. It's okay, though. Gryffindor's used to it, and we've (they've) been trained to ignore the crowds as much as possible. So it's not a big deal.

Rose turns around and runs back to where I am. "Your mum's here," she says, glancing at Allen and turning her nose up a bit as he stares dazedly at her.

I look over toward the faculty/visitor section of the stands and try to spot my mother. She told me that she _might _be coming but that she had a Puddlemere match she was supposed to be covering. I guess she must have got someone else to do it, though, because I see her sitting in the third row with Neville. It doesn't really bother me when Mum shows up at school (usually for Quidditch), as she is pretty good at keeping a low profile. She's famous and easily-spotted normally, but when she comes to school, she drops in quietly and always does her best to mix in as best as possible. If my dad comes, though, it's an entirely different story because it's absolutely _impossible _for him to mix in. He's always spotted, and then people start hounding him and kids get all star struck and start bothering him for autographs and stuff. Luckily, he's out of the country right now (Hungary, I think), so it's apparently just Mum today. I almost suggest pretending not to notice her, but she's already spotted us and is waving. Rose waves back excitedly (great timing for her random good mood…) and takes off in that direction. I have no choice but to follow her.

We make it to the stands, and I can barely keep up with Rose as she bounds up the stairs two at a time. Her legs are longer than mine, so it's easier for her, but I finally catch up. We squeeze our way through a small crowd of teachers that have huddled at the door and eventually have to actually push them a bit. They don't even notice, though, as they're apparently deep in conversation over something. Rose makes it down to my mum first, but I get there just behind her. Mum's smiling as she hugs us both tightly. I'm not embarrassed exactly, but I don't particularly _love _it, either. Luckily, Mum seems to know this and doesn't make a big show of it.

"I didn't think you were coming," I tell her as I lean against the side railing. Rose squeezes onto the bench between Mum and Neville.

"Well, I almost didn't get to. But I finally convinced Anne to take the Puddlemere story." I nod, and she squints up at me in the sunlight. "Have you talked to James, does he know I'm here?"

"Your sons are not speaking to each other," Rose informs her primly. I try to glare at her, but it's completely lost as she completely ignores me. "So if James _does _know, he didn't hear it from us. I'm on Al's side," she adds needlessly.

Mum just shakes her head, though, and says, "Imagine that."

"And James is an arsehole, by the way."

"Rose, I cannot believe you'd say that," Mum says, feigning shock. "I thought he was your favorite person in the world."

"Aunt Ginny, it's not nice to take the piss. Especially when I know what you're doing," Rose deadpans, and Mum laughs.

They get on really well, Mum and Rose, much better than Rose and Aunt Hermione who seem to be at odds over _everything. _That's sort of how James is with Uncle Ron, though. I've always thought that maybe Rose and James were somehow born into the wrong families- if they were born at the same time, I'd swear that they were switched. But I guess it's a lot easier to get along with aunts and uncles than it is with parents because while aunts and uncles have some authority, they aren't the ones who have to deal with the bad stuff. I think one day everyone will come around anyway. Dad and James don't _not _get along, they just don't have a lot in common personality-wise. Rose and Aunt Hermione… well, they don't get along. But they used to, when Rose was little, I mean, so maybe one day when Rose is all grown up and over her teenage angsting, they'll start getting on again. I think Rose is probably a lot different from how her mum imagined she'd be when she used to fantasize about kids and that sort of thing. She probably thought she'd be perfectly well-mannered and well-behaved and mature and brilliant. And, well, Rose is brilliant… but she's outspoken, willful, _very _temperamental, and definitely a teenage girl. She gets in trouble, swears, yells at people… all the things that I can't imagine Aunt Hermione ever did as a teenager. So it's probably a shock to her that she could raise that kind of child.

"I hear you've been in some trouble yourself," Mum raises her eyebrows at Rose who shrugs her shoulders innocently.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

From Rose's other side, Neville snorts, and we all laugh. It's nice to have him outside of a regular school setting because it makes things seem a lot more normal. He looks on, and Mum says, "Your _mother _says otherwise."

"My _mother," _Rose replies, "overreacts to _everything_."

"Oh, is that right?" Rose nods, and Mum rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm sure Neville knows."

"I'm not in this," he retorts immediately, and everyone laughs again. If this were another day, Rose might be extremely offended and go all moody and hateful. But right now, she's in a good mood, so everything is fine.

We're joined by Lily, Hugo, and Amanda who show up together. Mum hugs them as well, but Lily ducks away embarrassedly and looks around. It's a far cry from Amanda who has hung both her arms around her dad's neck and is leaning against him lazily. Mum hardly seems fazed, though, and she doesn't make a big show of it. Lily is definitely weird these days, and I guess it's puberty or something, as she's very moody and very overly reactive to the smallest of things. She's also become image obsessed and demands things rather than asks for them. It isn't getting her too far to say the least. I'm surprised she even came over here, but I figure most of that was Hugo as he seems quite excited to see Mum.

Mum asks some questions about school, and Lily gives generic one-word answers. Mum comments on the fact that Lily's shoes look absolutely fine and don't appear in need of replacing (they've been rowing about shoes all school year apparently), and Lily huffs up and tells her to stop making fun because it isn't a joke. Mum keeps her cool and doesn't make a scene, but her eyes are narrowed dangerously, which is a clear sign to all of us that Lily needs to watch herself. Lily crosses her arms and turns away to look at the still empty pitch.

I'm surprised to see that Rose is playing some sort of hand game with Hugo that causes them to randomly hit each other in the forehead. Normally, Rose likes to pretend that Hugo doesn't exist while we're at school, and if she _does _acknowledge him, it's normally to scream at him over something. They're laughing and joking now, though, and she's actually being _nice _to him.

Damn, it's amazing what a prospective practice test can do for temperaments around here…

Lily finally gets excited when Mum pulls out more pictures of the baby. She says she's a very sweet baby, and Lily and Amanda ooh and ahh over the pictures happily. Rose, Hugo, and I look at them and glance at each other silently, all thinking the same thing- that Louis was right… she really _does _look like a radish. She's got purple hair in most of the pictures, but there's one where her hair looks sort of pink- it's clear that she's definitely more Metamorphmagus than Veela.

"Teddy wants to call her Dora Jo," Mum explains. "Vic thinks it's awful and refuses. Fleur says she ought to be called Jolie, and Andromeda says she can't figure out why they think Nymphadora is so terrible, as she thinks it's quite lovely."

"Well, of course she would," Rose says, rolling her eyes. "She thought it up in the first place."

"I think Dora Jo is cute," Lily says, and she sounds normal for once. "That's what I'm going to call her."

"You have to call her whatever Victoire says," Hugo interjects. "That's the rule."

"There is no _rule," _Lily shoots back.

"You can't just make up a name for someone else's kid," he insists.

"I didn't make it up! Teddy did, and he's her dad."

"Okay, you two, cool it," Mum says, holding up her hand. "It's nearly time for the match to begin anyway, you probably ought to go find your seats."

She's right, it is nearly time. We head off, though Rose promises we'll see her after the match is done. We all head back to the Gryffindor section, and Lily and Hugo continue to argue over what they're allowed (and not allowed) to call the baby. Amanda follows along beside them looking bored, and Rose and I whisper together that Dora Jolie certainly didn't get her parents' looks…

We find seats together near the top of the stands. I spot our friends several rows down, but Rose doesn't want to go down there because both Elisabeth and David are there. I guess I don't blame her for that, though I _would _like to sit closer to Meghan… There's just enough room for all of us three rows from the top. I don't know why Amanda, Hugo, and Lily choose to sit with us instead of going off with their own friends, but they do, and Rose even shoulder bumps Hugo jokingly as she slides in beside him.

I feel a bit sad as the teams take the pitch. I feel Rose glance at me, and I know she's wondering if I'm upset. I try not to look it. I try to just pretend as if I'm not bothered and as if I'm the bigger person and able to be over it. Of course, it's hard when everyone around me is cheering James so loudly that I can barely hear myself think. I don't cheer him. Instead, I focus very hard on not drawing out my wand to curse the bastard (I just secretly wish he'd fall off his broomstick…).

Gryffindor takes an early lead, which is not surprising, as Ravenclaw's got a crap Keeper who makes it very easy to score for the other team. James makes about three shots in a row and is obviously hogging the Quaffle. This is not surprising, either, as he's an attention-hogging prat who _always _has to be the center of everything. I know Mariska and Emily are getting angry because they keep looking at each other darkly. They won't do anything, though, because as long as Gryffindor's scoring… well, I guess that's all that matters.

The match is actually sort of boring. It seems as if all of Ravenclaw has turned crap this year. It's nearly like they're asleep on the pitch or something. I do find one bit of amusement, though, and I laugh right out loud when a Bludger smacks James hard in the stomach. It pisses him off, and he takes it upon himself to hurl it straight back at the Beater who sent it at him. It hurt, though, I can tell. And that makes me happy.

Chelsea Whitaker is actually pretty amazing. I've never seen anyone fly like that so young, I doubt even my dad did… I'm not bitter against her because she honestly deserves a spot on the team. I just still won't forgive James for actually giving it to her… She is doing an excellent job of distracting the other Seeker while clearly actively looking for the Snitch herself. Bill Bradley's playing Ravenclaw Seeker, and she keeps faking him out and sending him diving aimlessly in all sorts of directions. It must suck, I suppose, to be fifteen years old and be having your arse kicked by an eleven year old girl (actually, I don't suppose- I know how it feels).

No one is surprised in the least when she finally catches it only thirty-eight minutes into the match. I think everyone's rather disappointed to start the season off with such a boring game. Final score is 280-20, Gryffindor. Everyone cheers, of course, but after a bit of it, we all just sort of sit in the stands and look at each other. Is Quidditch always this boring?

"I'm freezing," Lily announces, standing up and drawing all of our attention. "I'm going back inside."

"Aren't you going to see your mum again?" Hugo asks.

Lily just squashes up her nose. "I already saw her once, why do I need to see her again?" Lily is really awful sometimes. She's so spoiled and bratty… She looks at Hugo and Amanda and says, "Are you coming or not?"

Hugo shakes his head, but Amanda eventually shrugs and gets up to follow her out of the stands. Lily barely even says bye, and Amanda manages a little half-wave as they disappear into the crowds. Then it's just Rose, Hugo, and me. We're waiting for things to clear out a bit so that we can make our way back over to Mum who I can spot now chatting with Neville and a couple of other teachers. Rose has apparently packed for such an occasion, as she pulls a Chocolate Frog seemingly out of nowhere. She unwraps it and hands the card off to Hugo who reads it disinterestedly. It's Agrippa, and we've all got about twelve of him. Rose bites the head off the frog and then breaks the rest in half, handing one piece to me and one to her brother. I'm almost afraid at this point, considering how abnormally nice she's being, especially to Hugo. He seems happy for it, though, and thanks her as he pockets the card and starts eating his chocolate.

"Thanks for saving me some!"

Holy shit, it's Meghan. She's apparently abandoned everyone else and climbed back up the stands to us. Rose spits out a tiny piece of the chocolate she's chewing and opens her hand to Meghan who gags in response before they both fall into giggles.

"You should have got up here sooner," Rose says dismissively, licking the now melted chocolate off of her palm.

"Well, _you _shouldn't've run off and left me," Meghan retorts, sitting backwards on the bench in front of us.

"Al's mum was here, and we had to go see her," Rose says primly. "_You _should've just come with us."

Meghan sighs loudly and lays her head down onto Rose's lap before turning her head and squinting up at me. "Is she still here?" she asks me.

I nod awkwardly. It's now got to the point where it's harder to talk to her when there are other people around because it makes me nervous. My mouth feels very dry. "We're about to go back over there."

"Your mum's so pretty," she says lazily, and Rose starts drumming her fingertips against the side of her head.

I don't know what to say back, but luckily, Hugo cuts me off. He stands up and stretches and points out that the crowd has thinned enough to make an easy path to my mum. I agree, and Rose shoves Meghan up by the shoulders. Meghan, in turn, declares that now she has to go with us because she's not walking all the way back to the castle by herself.

Mum meets us halfway, and she's smiling widely. "That was a good match, huh?" she asks brightly.

Hugo wrinkles his nose. "It was _boring."_

Mum laughs and shrugs. "Okay, maybe a bit…" She glances over to where Meghan and Rose are standing and says, "Hi, Meghan."

Meghan just smiles politely and replies, "Hi, Mrs. Potter."

"How're your parents?"

"Oh, they're good," Meghan goes on. "Dad's started some new designs, and I think the Ministry is going to use some of them." Meghan's dad is an architect of sorts, he designs buildings and draws out the plans for them.

Mum smiles and says, "That's great! Tell him I said hello, okay?"

Meghan nods. "I will."

"You look very pretty," Mum compliments her genuinely. "You must get tons of attention. Have you got a boyfriend?"

Oh, god. Oh, _god, _why is my mother so embarrassing? I can see Rose nearly wetting herself as she tries not to laugh, and I want very badly to strangle her, though I want to strangle my mother first, of course.

Meghan doesn't seem embarrassed, though, she just laughs and shakes her head. "Yeah, right. My dad says I'm too young to date anyway."

And then Mum snorts. Yes, _snorts._

We all look at her like she's crazy, and it's Rose who finally asks what's so funny. Mum just shakes her head bemusedly. "Nothing."

"No, what?" Meghan asks, and she's smiling wickedly as though she knows she's about to get something good on her dad. I don't think she expects quite what she gets, though…

"Nothing, just… I was dating your dad when I was your age."

_What? _

Rose bursts out laughing, and Hugo follows quickly. I just stare in shock at my mother, and Meghan looks like she doesn't know _what _to think. How is it possible that my mother dated _anyone _else besides my dad? The way they talk, they act as though they've been together forever and were childhood sweethearts. I wonder if Mum's even telling the truth.

"Seriously?" Meghan asks, her eyes wide in disbelief. "You dated my dad?"

Mum nods, and I can tell she's trying not to laugh herself. "For a bit, yeah. When I was a Fifth Year."

"_Seriously?"_

Now Mum really _does _laugh. "Yes," she says firmly. "But don't tell him I told you that, he apparently wants you to think he wasn't into that sort of thing."

Meghan laughs, too, and she shakes her head. "I can't believe it… The hypocrite!"

How is this funny to everyone? Do they not realize that this is my _mother?! _I don't want to think about her getting off with boys while she was a teenager, especially boys who weren't my dad. I was perfectly content thinking they were each other's one and only, and now Mum has gone and shattered that in one split second. Not only that, but _Meghan's dad? _

"Just think," Mum says wistfully. "If it had worked out, you two would be brother and sister," she says to Meghan and me.

This absolutely sends Rose over the edge, and I make a mental note to murder her later tonight- when I'm out of my mother's eye line, of course. This is so definitely not funny. This is about as far from funny as it is possible to get.

How is it possible that my life gets more and more mortifying each and every single day?

Important News Number Five: My life is a nightmare.

--

A/N: As always, thanks for reading, and please review!!


	14. A Rose by Any Other Name

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 14

**A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME**

--

My parents planted a rosebush in the backyard the day after they moved into our house. They did it because the back garden was weeded up and overgrown from the previous owners, and they wanted something nice to look at while they looked out their bedroom window. So Mum went out and brought home a rosebush and made Dad plant it for her. She was pregnant, and it was nearly summer. She says that any woman who is pregnant during the summer months has every right to make a slave of the man who made her that way. So, yeah, she made him plant it so that she could have something pleasant.

Mum always says she was worried because she'd never successfully raised any sort of plant. Everything she'd ever tried to grow had wilted and died. So I guess she wasn't too optimistic about the roses but thought she'd give them a try anyway. And, to everyone's surprise, they actually _bloomed. _Not only did they not die, but they bloomed all summer long. Mum claims it was a miracle.

They were going to call me Olivia. I don't know why. I've heard that my whole life, though, that they fought for months over what to call me before finally settling on Olivia. Dad wanted to call me Margot or something, and Mum was apparently dead set on Persephone. I don't know why they were finally able to settle on Olivia, though, but they finally did. Of course, most everyone in the family was convinced I was going to be a boy anyway, so I doubt either of them were too awfully attached to their original choices anyway.

One day, though, they were out in the garden (Mum was pointing out places for Dad to weed), and they finally took a second to "stop and smell the roses." No, I swear to god that that's an exact quote from my mum. _"We were so busy and so caught up in everything that we were missing out on all the important things. So we finally took a second to stop and literally smell the roses." _(I told you she's mental). Well, apparently they must have smelled awfully fantastic because…

BOOM!

Immediate name change.

Mum says Dad suggested it, and he says she suggested it. I don't know the truth because obviously I was tucked away inside a womb probably training myself to ignore their voices, even as a fetus. However, they agree that it was the sight (and smell) of the roses, along with the fact that it was the first thing Mum ever managed to grow and not kill, that inspired them to switch the name.

Of course, they still thought I was a boy, so I guess Rose was technically just a backup…

Of course I was a girl, though, and all my dad's hopes of calling me Roscoe or Ralph or whatever it was he had in his head at that time were killed. Rose it was. And Rose it still is. And Rose I am…

I don't hate my name. It's not bad at all actually. It could be a _lot _worse. I mean, I _could _be called Albus Severus or something like that (or whatever the girl version of that might be…). I guess that's one good thing about my parents. They didn't go and name us after dead people. Nearly everyone else in our family is named after somebody (mostly dead somebodies), and I've always thought that must be an awful lot of pressure. I mean, let's face it, Al is great and my favorite person in the entire world, but he's never going to be Albus Dumbledore, so why even try it? And James and Lily… well, true, Uncle Harry never really knew them, but those were his parents, you know? And he's heard plenty of stories about them, about how they were such heroes and everything else. And that's not even the worst one… Poor Fred. Now, don't get me wrong because Fred disgusts me pretty much as much as James does, but can you imagine being named after somebody that everyone in your family misses daily? Being named after your dad's dead twin brother? Seriously, I don't envy that one at _all. _And then there's my cousin Molly. She's named after Grandmum, which I guess is a tad less pressure than being named after a dead person, but it's still got to be hard. And _confusing. _Whenever someone says the name, both my cousin and my grandmother look up, and then whoever is speaking has to specify which one they're referring to… It's awful.

So, no. Rose is just fine with me. I don't know any other ones- dead or alive- and that's the way I like it.

But even though I may not have the pressure of living up to a namesake, that doesn't mean that I'm pressure-free. Because I'm definitely not. I feel sometimes like I have more pressure on me than all the namesakes combined. And really, it's because of my mum. My mum, if you don't know, happens to be pretty much a genius. She's about as smart as it's possible to be, and everyone knows it. Not only that, but she was a great war hero as well, and she _is_ partly to thank for saving the world… And I guess people just expect that I'm going to be just like her. But I'm _not _like her. True, I study quite a bit, and my grades are best in my year. But other than that, well, I'm not exactly perfect, am I? I always feel like people are disappointed because I don't live up to their expectations of how Hermione Granger's daughter should act. But I don't know how to _be _that person.

And Mum's very careful about it. We don't get on all that well at all, and that's no secret. But mum tries very hard never to say the phrase, _"When I was your age…" _because I think she's smart enough to realize that what _she_ did when she was my age isn't going to affect what _I _do at this age. And I think she's smart enough to have figured out that the more she tries to get me to do something or behave one way, the more likely I am to do exactly the opposite. That's not to say that she doesn't get after me about all sorts of things or that she doesn't yell at me and all of that- she does, as we all well know. But she is very careful of how she says things, and I know she does it on purpose.

One thing she does like about me, though, is that I do manage to live up to her academic expectations at least. And she absolutely _loves _that.

We got to do practice OWLs this week. It's the first time they've ever allowed it, and I'm so glad. I've been worrying about the OWLs for months now, but after the practice exams, I'm pretty confident that things'll be just fine. I scored nearly perfect on everything, which is a major accomplishment considering the fact that we haven't even studied all of the material yet. I messed up a bit on my Charms written, but I think I can sort it out before spring. I wrote home to tell my parents about the scores because I was actually quite pleased with myself, and Mum wrote back nearly immediately.

_Dear Rose,_

_I am so pleased to hear about your success on the practice OWLs! You have worked very hard, and that makes your father and me so proud. With scores like that on the practice, you should have no trouble at all on the actual exams. In fact, you'll be even better prepared by that time, so you'll probably do even better! I am so, so proud of you, and I hope you know that. Nothing makes me happier than watching you and your brothers succeed at the tasks in front of you. You are a wonderful role model for them, and they really do look up to you._

_I am happy that you are staying out of trouble now. I know that sometimes I'm probably too hard on you, but I want you to have so much success and everything you deserve. That's why I want you to stay out of trouble and do well. I know how much you're capable of, and all I want is for you to have every bit of it. You deserve all of it and so much more. Your dad and I have worked our whole lives to make things easier for you, and it means so much that you've grown up and shown us that you are capable of doing things on your own and for yourself._

_I love you so much, and I want you to always remember that nothing you could ever do could change that. Nothing in the world means more to me than watching you try your best at everything you do._

_Give your brother a kiss for us (or at least tell him we say hello and that we love him). _

_Love,_

_Mum_

_PS: Dad says hi!_

I don't know how she does it- how she always manages to say something really nice whenever I'm trying to rally against her. I actually had an ulterior motive for boasting about my practice scores… I ended fake-scoring twelve OWLs- my mum only had eleven… Of course, this is because Mum dropped Muggle Studies, and I've kept it up (I need it more, I only see my grandparents occasionally after all…). So it's an easy class and an easy OWL, but it's still one more than Mum got. So I sort of wanted to brag about it.

Of course, leave it to her to completely miss the fact that I was trying to be a bitch and just go mental with praise instead.

Damn her.

How am I supposed to be mad and vindictive when she says things like that? When she goes on and on about how proud she is of me and how happy I make her by doing well? It's bloody annoying is what it is.

Sometimes I really do wish that we got on better. I miss the times when I was growing up when we would have really honest sort of talks with each other. Of course, back then it wasn't as if I had too many secrets to spill or anything, but it was still nice. I can't imagine being like that now, though- now that I actually _do _have spillable secrets. I don't see how she could relate anyway. I doubt my mum was ever too much of a normal teenage girl…

If you're wondering, I haven't replied to the letter she sent. I don't know what to say back because I feel guilty for not being nearly as good-intentioned as she apparently imagined. But really, it's _not _my fault that she's overly proud, now is it? I didn't _ask _her to be like that after all. But it is what it is, I suppose.

Not everyone did quite as great, though… Al completely blew his tests. He did absolutely terribly, but I suppose it's not entirely his fault because, like I said, we haven't even studied half of the material that they tested us on. He still beat himself up over it, though. He was afraid to tell his parents even though they completely don't care- well, they do _care_, but they don't really have high expectations when it comes to schoolwork, not like my mum anyway. I guess neither of them ever had through the roof grades, so they don't really expect their kids to. And it's a good thing, too, because James just barely passes _everything, _and Al needs a lot of extra help in most subjects to keep his head above water, and Lily isn't exactly the brightest bulb in the box, either… But where James and Lily couldn't care less about their grades, Al actually worries about his. It's awful, too, because he tries as hard as he can, whereas James and Lily do just barely enough to get by and don't worry about anything extra.

I always try to help Al out wherever I can. I help him with his studying and always look over his homework for him… I can't take tests for him, though, and that's usually where he falls short. But he manages. He hasn't failed anything yet, and I won't let him. I don't feel like it's cheating either, seeing as how I know for a fact that Dad and Uncle Harry probably couldn't have made it past First Year if Mum hadn't fixed all their homework for them. Of course, neither of them actually graduated, either, but that's not something usually brought up in our family. In fact, the only way I even found out was because Al found an old photograph of his mum and my mum at their graduation, and both of our dads were in regular clothes. Then after that, they had no choice but to tell us… and let's just say that James uses that excuse quite frequently now. Of course, it's not a popular excuse, and whenever he tries to pull it, we're all forced to listen to a story that begins, "We would have _loved _to have had a normal Seventh Year like you're getting…" and so on and so on.

Speaking of James, he's been a nightmare ever since Gryffindor killed Ravenclaw in the Quidditch match. He's been driving his team into the ground, too, apparently dead set on making sure that they really _are _the absolute best team that Hogwarts has ever seen. He makes them practice four nights a week _and _all day Saturday. They're out there right now, flying over the pitch, and it's starting to get dark. Honestly, I don't know how any of them have any time at all to do any homework. They're probably all going to fail their classes this year… but I guess if they do, then at least Gryffindor can have the _best team in history _twice.

I'm doing exactly the opposite, of course, and studying my arse off for the Transfiguration exam we've got tomorrow. It's all on information that I already know pretty well, but there's no hurt in all at brushing up on things, now is there? I tried to convince Al to join me because I know he's having a lot of difficulty with the subject matter, but he said he was "too tired" to study. I suppose he'll be too tired to pass as well.

I had to leave the Common Room because it was too loud, and there were too many people going on about all sorts of ridiculous things, none of which had the least bit to do with Transfiguration. No one else seems to care at all about their marks, but I don't suppose it's any concern of mine. The worse they do, the better I look, after all. I just don't understand them, though, how it's possible that they just _don't care. _Oh, well, I guess…

Vanishing Spells.

It's probably one of the most difficult subject matters we've studied so far, but all these idiots in my year seem to think they don't need to study. I hope we've got a large portion of practical tomorrow just so everyone else can show themselves off for being idiots. I read over the text material for probably the fifteenth time, determined, of course, to commit it to memory. I've nearly done it, too. My philosophy has always been that if something's committed to memory then you are biologically incapable of forgetting it and making a fool of yourself. I try and commit everything I read to memory, just because I _hate_ making a fool of myself, of course.

The library is an absolute sanctuary. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth. It's the only place in the world where I can go and just escape everything else. I'm sort of happy, actually, that no one wanted to join me because I'm quite sure I'd be terribly annoyed by now. And having someone else around sort of ruins the sanctity of a place anyway… It's so quiet and peaceful, and I can literally stay down here for hours and never get tired of it. I don't know how long I've been here now, but I _do _know that it's officially dark.

"Um, Rose…"

I nearly shit myself as my absolute quiet sanctuary is disturbed by a quiet male voice behind me. Okay, so I really don't nearly _shit _myself, but I do jump a bit and snap my head around to tell off the offender.

And it's Scorpius Malfoy?

I look at him like he's just scared me to death (because he has) and also like he's the weirdest person I've ever met in my life (because he is). He stares back at me sort of awkward-like, and I don't know what the hell is going on inside his head.

"Yes?" I finally ask, considering it doesn't appear as though he's going to say anything but my name.

He seems startled that I've spoken. God, this kid is weird… Finally, he seems to find his voice again. "Uh… could you help me?" he asks, and his voice sounds strained.

Huh? "Help you with what?"

"With that," he motions towards my book. "We've got that test tomorrow, too," he explains quietly. "And I don't really understand it…"

So that's the reason he's sneaking up and scaring me to death? Because he doesn't understand Vanishing Spells? What is _up _with this kid?

"So you want me to tutor you, so you can pass?" I ask, completely skeptical.

"If you could," he answers immediately, and then apparently he realizes how eager that sounds because he slows his voice just a bit. "I mean, if you're not busy, of course…"

Yes, Scorpius Malfoy, I'm busy. Can't you see that I'm here attempting to study _myself? _Why do you think I have extra time to help you cram for an exam you should have studied for ages ago?

"I've been studying for a week," he says out of nowhere. Legilimency? Can't be… "I just don't understand it. And I can't fail, my dad'll kill me."

So maybe there _is _at least one other person at this school who has parents (or _a _parent at least) who cares about their child's grades. And it's Scorpius Malfoy… Who would have thought?

"I just barely scraped by passing the practice OWL for Transfiguration," he goes on, and I wonder why he's telling me all of this. "I just can't get it right."

"And you want me to help?" I ask again, and he looks at me like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't.

"If you could…" he says quietly. "I mean, I'd really appreciate it."

"Fine." What am I saying? "I'll help you." Why am I pulling a chair out for him?

Scorpius sits down, and I can tell he's scared to death about something, though I haven't a clue as to what it might be. I don't know him that well- the majority of what I know about him is that he is semi-competent at Potions, Arithmancy, and Astronomy (the only classes we've got together); he doesn't ever speak, and when he does, you can usually just barely hear him; he is an okay Quidditch player; he's very rich; and pretty much my entire family hates his entire family. In a nutshell. The end.

"Er, thanks," he stutters, "for helping me… I really appreciate it…"

I shrug. "It's no problem." What am I saying? He is bothering me in my _sanctuary! _

"Did you miss dinner?"

Okay, _what? _Why does he know that? It's starting to get creepy…

Scorpius apparently realizes that he sounds like a deranged stalker, though, because he sits straight up and quickly explains himself. "I was going to ask you then, but I didn't see you."

"I was here studying," I say slowly, and I eye him as suspiciously as possible. I wonder if he's been sent here on a secret mission to try and kill me or something? _What?_ I have to be suspicious of everyone now, I was kidnapped and brainwashed, remember? It's for my own safety.

"I figured," he mumbles nervously. "That's why I came here." He carefully avoids my eye as he puts his bag on the table and starts fumbling through it. He pulls out what appears to be a ham sandwich wrapped in a napkin. "I thought you might be hungry…"

I say nothing for a moment and simply stare at the sandwich. Finally, I take it (though I've no intention whatsoever of eating it- kidnapped, brainwashed, suspicious of everyone? Remember?). "You're quite strange, do you know that?" I ask pointedly.

He looks sort of startled, and I can tell that isn't the reaction he was expecting to his dinner offering. "Sorry," he mumbles, and his eyes immediately go down to the table. He pushes a hand through his hair and twists in his chair awkwardly.

"No, I'm not being mean," I clarify. "You're just… different… from most people here, I mean." I don't know what I'm saying. My mouth is running off without my brain's permission.

"I know." Again with the mumbling.

"So does your dad _really _care if you pass your Transfiguration test, or is that just you with some secret desire to do well?"

"No, he cares," Scorpius says. "I just shouldn't fail, trust me." He finally looks up, and I notice again that he actually is quite cute. His hair is especially nice, it's a bit long, but it works for him- it gives him something to hide his eyes behind when he doesn't want to look at people.

"I shouldn't either," I say, nodding. "Trust me."

And then Scorpius laughs. It's weird. I don't believe I've ever heard it before. He doesn't look like someone who would laugh, mostly because I doubt he's ever heard a joke in his entire life. But here he is, laughing. At least for a second anyway.

"Yeah, right," he mutters. "Like _you _have to worry about that…"

"Hey, now," I sit up and force him to look at me. "I have to worry about it as much as anyone else."

"Yeah, because you're really in danger of failing…"

So, he's sarcastic, too? He laughs _and _makes failed attempts at being ironic. Interesting.

"I would be if I acted like all the rest of the idiots here and just ignored the whole reason for us _being _in school," I say pointedly.

Scorpius just looks at me for a second, and I get a bit uncomfortable. Then, out of nowhere, he changes the subject. "So, I heard your uncle's coming to teach Defense next week."

_What? _I say it out loud, too. _"What?"_

Scorpius is obviously a bit surprised that _I'm _so surprised because he does this little shoulder-shrug thing that makes it very obvious that he wasn't intentionally trying to surprise me and now has no idea where to go with it. "I just heard it at dinner," he half-shrugs again and breaks eye contact. "Maybe it's not true…"

Oh, I've no doubt that it's true. Every couple of years, we all have to be subjected to Tales of the War… or Tales from the Auror Department… or Tales from Last Easter's Afternoon Lunch. It's positively awful.

"_Wonderful," _I say sardonically, scowling enough to show my mood clearly.

"I take it that's not a good thing?" he asks quietly.

It's not.

It's commonly considered to be about the _worst _thing imaginable by my cousins and me. It's embarrassing and weird, and we all hate it with a passion. I'm pretty sure even Uncle Harry hates it, but I think he feels weirdly obligated to this school, so when they ask him to show up, he usually does. But because I _know _him, I can tell that he isn't ever exactly jumping with joy as he stands in front of our classes and drones on about the things that made him famous, probably, of course, because he doesn't _enjoy _being famous. Everyone else enjoys it, though. Those times when he shows up at school are apparently everyone else's favorite days of the year. _Everyone _shows up for class, _no one _skives, _everyone _listens, _no one _falls asleep… It's a bit ridiculous if you ask me.

"Would you like it if _your _uncle showed up to teach at your school?" I challenge pointedly.

Scorpius just says, "I don't have any uncles."

"Lucky you," I shoot back, I'm still being purposely sardonic. Personally, I can't imagine a life with no uncles, though I'd desperately like to be able to. No uncles, no aunts, no cousins… No massive family that constantly gets into your business and annoys you? Sounds like a dream come true to me.

"It's not so great," he says quietly. "I don't have any cousins, either…"

"I would turn handsprings if I didn't have any cousins." He raises an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head. "Okay, well, I wouldn't," I correct myself. "But only because I don't know how to do a handspring."

He laughs again. It really _is _strange. I wonder if he's forgotten that he needs help with his Vanishing. He is looking at me sort of funnily, and it's a little bit creepy and a little bit satisfying (though I've no idea _why_ I have that reaction…).

"Do you want me to teach you this or not?" I ask sharply, pulling out my wand and sitting up straight.

Scorpius snaps out of his laughing and sits up straight as well. He takes out his own wand and places a tiny walnut on the desk in front of us. Without any hesitation whatsoever, I say, _"Evanesco!" _and the walnut vanishes.

Scorpius frowns at the now empty space and lets out a dejected sigh. I reach into the pocket of my jeans and pull out a knut. I place it in front of him and motion for him to give it a try. Looking as though he's concentrating quite hard, Scorpius takes a breath and waves his wand swiftly. _"Evanesco!"_

Nothing happens.

"You're saying it wrong," I say, trying to be gentle but also making a point. "You're stressing the _co, _but you've got to draw out the _es _and make it nice and long."

Scorpius just looks at me with raised eyebrows, but he follows my advice nonetheless and says, _"EvanESco!"_ The knut turns a slightly lighter shade, but it's still right in front of us.

"And watch your wrist," I go on. "Remember, it's just an easy swish and flick." Without thinking, I grab hold of his wrist and move it for him. He looks at me like he's shocked, so I let go awkwardly.

But then, with a gentle swish and flick and a perfectly accented word, Scorpius says, _"EvanESco!" _and the knut disappears.

He looks quite pleased with himself, and I can't help but smile. "Thanks," he says genuinely.

I just shrug, smirk, and say, "At least now your dad won't kill you."

Scorpius nods, a weird little smile on his own face. "Yeah… At least that…"

--

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I'm surprised that so many people didn't realize Dean was Meghan's dad, but I guess it _has _been a while since I wrote Dean's appearance and the very first tiny Al and Meghan bit in Chapter 2 or Lost… But yes, he is her dad, and Lee Jordan _is _David's dad.

Also, to the reviewer who wants to translate the stories into Spanish, yes, that's absolutely fine with me. Thanks!

Hope you enjoyed this one, please review!


	15. James Potter, The Second

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 15

**JAMES POTTER. THE SECOND.**

--

James Potter. The Second.

That's me. Actually, there really is no II at the end of my name, but I put it there sometimes just to let people know that I am, in fact, alive and not dead. My predecessor (James Potter the First) is dead and has been for many, many decades now. I just want to make sure people know the difference before they start mixing us up and confusing us.

I'm a lot like that first James Potter, though, or at least that's what I've been told. There actually aren't too many people alive now who have that much authority on what the first James Potter was really like, though, as all of his family and most of his mates snuffed it somewhere along the lines during the first and second war. Even my dad can't give that authority, seeing as how he only knew the first James Potter for little over a year and has no recollection whatsoever of him. But I guess enough of his dad's mates were around during the time he was growing up to fill him in and let him know what his dad was like and all of that. And I'm named after Sirius, too, who Dad _did _know and who I apparently also take after quite a bit. I guess it's a good thing I can live up to my namesakes. They'd probably both be sorely disappointed if it was my brother who got stuck with their names and turned out to be a sodding uptight loser. I'm sure both James Potter (the First) and Sirius Black (the only) are extremely glad that it was me who earned their names and not some scrawny little git who sucks at life; ie Albus Severus Potter.

My brother and I aren't exactly getting on at the moment. In fact, he's damn lucky I haven't killed him yet. The only reason I haven't is because I'm pretty sure my mother would have quite a bit to say about it, and I don't particularly fancy having to sit through a lecture on why I shouldn't murder my siblings. I can't quite believe he's such an arsehole, though. He's apparently grown some balls out of nowhere and now thinks he has the right to disrespect me and, in general, be a little shit. That's fine, though. He can wave his shiny little Prefect badge around all he wants, it doesn't change the fact that I can, and _will, _kick his arse whenever I please.

I can't do it this week, though.

If you haven't heard, it's Harry Potter Week at Hogwarts. Okay, so not _technically. _I mean, they didn't actually say it was called that or anything, but that's pretty much the gist of it. My dad's come to spend the week teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and the entire school has gone mad as a result. Even some of the teachers have gone all star struck and idiotic. A stupid little banner is even hanging in the main entrance that reads _"Welcome Home, Harry Potter." _Welcome Home. Apparently whoever made that banner isn't aware that he's already got a home in St. Alban's. And a wife. And three kids. It's pathetic, really, is what it is.

And Dad can't stand it. He hates when people make fusses like that. I don't even know why he bothers agreeing to come out here and do this shit, but I think he feels like he's obligated to or something, even though I can't imagine why. He takes it in stride, though, I guess, and he's at least able to hide his visible disgust at people fawning over him and treat them nicely and respectably. I don't think I'd have that much patience personally, so I guess it's a good thing that it's my dad and not me.

I hate it when he comes here, though. It's so annoying and embarrassing, and it gets very old _very _quickly. I'm not alone, either. Al and Lily can't stand it, either, and neither can any of my cousins. I think Dad knows that, too, so that makes him even less eager to show up. My dad might do a lot of things that get on my nerves, but one thing he never does is intentionally embarrass any of us. That's the reason I didn't even know who Harry Potter _really _was until I started Hogwarts. He and my mum always kept us away from it, so I really had no idea the extent of it until I started reading about it and hearing it from people at school. Dad tries to keep us out of this stuff as much as possible, which I guess makes him feel a bit of guilt for showing up at our school for this crap every couple of years.

I haven't seen him yet, but I suppose he probably arrived early this morning. There was no sign of him at breakfast, but there were plenty of excited whispers. _"Is he here yet?!" "Have you seen him?!" "Oh, I wish I had Defense today!"_

Well, I _have _got it today, first class actually. And to say I wish I didn't would be an extreme understatement. I'd completely skive except, of course, that my dad would probably notice if I was missing when he checked the attendance. I mean, considering the fact that he knows me pretty well, it would be sort of hard to convince him that he just overlooked me…

I do take my time getting there, though. The Defense classroom isn't that far from the Great Hall, but I take the longest possible route getting there, trying to delay the inevitable as long as I can. Brampton and Elliott are with me- they both want to get there fast, I can tell, but, of course, they don't say this out loud because they both know it'll make them sound like dumbshits. Instead, they walk along with me and only occasionally glance at each other behind my back…

As it turns out, we're late. Class is supposed to start promptly at a quarter of nine, but it's 8:53 when we finally reach the door. I know the exact time because I look at my watch right before we enter the classroom. Everyone else is already inside, of course, and they've all snagged the front rows, leaving the desks across the back empty. Which is absolutely fine with me. I try, and fail, to avoid my dad's eye as I slide into one of those back desks and yank Brampton and Elliott down with me. He doesn't say anything, but I can tell by the look he's giving me that he doesn't appreciate me strolling into class late.

"Now that we're all here," he says pointedly, and he glances at me again, "let's get started."

Everyone sits up really straight, eager to hear whatever story he's getting ready to tell. They're all a bunch of idiots. Gah, I hate everyone right now. Dad doesn't seem to notice their over-eagerness, either because he's used to it or because he thinks this is normal behavior for a class. If he believes the second option… well, then he's not exactly the smartest person in the world…

He slides onto the desk and sits on the edge, looking surprisingly at ease, not at all the awkward and slightly annoyed way that he normally looks. "So," he goes on, clasping his hands in front of him, "seeing as how this is a NEWT level class, I assume that you're all well-versed in the Unforgivables and that sort of thing, correct?" There is a general murmur of consensus, and I have to force myself to keep my head lifted. It seems to have a mind of its own that wants to direct it in falling forward onto the desk… "Just for a refresher, who can name me one?"

The amount of hands that fly into the air is actually embarrassing. No one in this class is _ever _this eager to answer questions. Even Brampton and Elliott (who are supposed to be on _my _side) raise their hands eagerly. In fact, I think I'm probably the only person in the entire class who doesn't volunteer an answer, though, of course it's not a difficult question.

Dad calls on Alexa Gailey. "I can name all three actually," she pipes up eagerly, and the stupid smile plastered across her face is obvious even from all the way back here.

"Just one will be fine," Dad says, not moving from his place on the front desk.

Alexa nods, though I imagine she's a bit disappointed at not being able to show off to her full ability. "There's the Imperius, of course," she says clearly. "It's probably the most commonly used, at least in the known instances of use anyway."

Dad nods. "That's true. The Imperius is actually used as excuse quite a bit when people are caught breaking the law or performing the Dark Arts. That's not to say, of course, that each time someone uses that excuse that they are lying… but it does happen quite a bit."

Alexa's hand flies back into the air, and Dad cuts himself off to politely acknowledge her.

"Excuse me, sir," she says briskly, "but how exactly do you determine if someone is using the Imperius as s a simple excuse or if they have actually been placed under the curse?"

"That's an excellent question, and I'm actually glad that you asked it. You can imagine, I'm sure, that many people who are arrested would love to be able to do something as simple as claim they've been cursed and forced against their will to do whatever it is that's got them arrested. Unfortunately, I'm sure you're all aware that this isn't always the case."

"Do you see a lot of it, though?" This time it's Michael Pollard who's asked the question, and Dad looks over at him. Dad doesn't particularly like Michael Pollard that much because he is what Dad likes to call a "bad influence." Apparently, Michael's supposed to have influenced my attitude negatively or something like that. Dad thinks this, of course, because I blamed one of my detentions on him in Third Year, so I suppose it's not entirely Michael's fault that my father has this view of him. Luckily, though, Dad doesn't let it show on his face as he answers the question.

"We actually don't see it _too _much anymore, probably because it's gotten very easy to spot. When someone uses that defense now, it's very easy to either prove them a liar or prove them truthful. Of course, we've only recently perfected the process, so before it was so easy and definitive, there were tons of people using the excuse. Especially after the war."

Everyone sits up even straighter.

They all want to know war stories because they all think it's fascinating and amazing, and despite the fact that they sleep through the same chapters in History of Magic, when it's _the _Harry Potter telling the story, everyone makes sure they're wide-awake and attentive. Now, you probably think I know these stories by heart, but the truth is that I actually don't know too much more than anybody else in this room. I also don't _want _to. These stories always bore me, not to mention, of course, make me feel fairly inadequate.

Being Harry Potter's son has its fair share of ups and downs. The ups, of course, include the fame, the money, the girls throwing themselves at you… The downs, though, include feeling pressure to live up to some legacy that's never going to happen. I'm not my father, and I'm never going to _be _my father. Even if there was a Dark Wizard threatening us right now, I can't make any promises that I'd throw myself onto the front lines to fight… I don't really fancy dying too much, so I'd probably do my best to avoid both sides and simply hide out with a pretty girl and a vat of firewhiskey. It sounds much more appealing than offering yourself up for slaughter if you ask me.

Dad carries on about the onslaught of alleged Death Eaters who claimed that they were under the Imperius Curse while doing Voldemort's work after the war ended. He gives everyone a quick run-through on Potter history, which includes the fact that he went to work for the Auror department when he was just barely eighteen years old and, therefore, witnessed the trials of many of these people. I stop listening somewhere along the lines when he starts talking about the number of people who he now believes were released and should have been convicted- "Knowing what we know now, it would be very easy to prove those people to be liars…"

And… I'm out.

I spend the next hour and five minutes counting the number of scratches on the wooden desk in front of me. I vaguely catch my father's voice assigning twelve inches on the means of spotting the Imperius Curse in other humans, but I have him pretty much tuned out as everyone around me starts packing up their bags. Generally when a class is over, people slam their books into their bags and run out of the classroom as quickly as possible, but people are taking their sweet time today. No one has packed up early, and no one seems overly-eager to escape into the corridors. I stand up with Brampton and Elliott who have both copied the assignment down (good, I'll probably need it later), and we get ready to head out. As I sling my bag over my shoulder, though, I hear a very familiar voice calling my name. It's my dad, of course, and he's motioning me toward the front of the room.

Inwardly, I groan, but I tell my mates to go on without me. The rest of the class watches curiously as I reluctantly join my father at his desk. Apparently, though, no one wants to appear too conspicuous, so they empty out fairly quickly. Dad is scribbling something down when I finally make it to the front of the room, so I stand there patiently and wait. Finally, he is finished, and he looks at me seriously.

"Was there a particular reason why you were late to class?"

Okay, so I should have known that was coming… But in all honesty, if I'm going to get in trouble for being tardy, then isn't it only fair that Brampton and Elliott join me? They joined me in being late after all…

I don't say this, of course. I just shrug my shoulders and say, "Not really."

"So you just make a habit of being late to your classes?"

"No."

He looks at me with raised eyebrows. "So just this one?"

"No… I mean, what do you want me to say, Dad?" I ask, and I'm already sick of this discussion.

"I want you to tell me why you feel that it's acceptable to roll into your classes whenever you please. I want you to _tell _me that you're taking your education at least _remotely _seriously."

He isn't joking. He is using the same tone that he always uses when he's secretly angry about something and is trying to trick me into admitting it.

I sigh lightly and look him straight in the eye. "I'm taking my education remotely seriously," I say slowly and pointedly.

"James, this isn't a joke," he says sternly (told you he wasn't joking). "You can't just assume you have the liberty to join your classes whenever you feel the fancy."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I don't ever _feel the fancy _then, isn't it?"

"If you keep fooling around, you aren't going to graduate."

He's got a lot of nerve, talking to me about graduating… I as good as say so, too. "Well, if I don't… it worked out well enough for you, didn't it? Here you are back at Hogwarts teaching classes, and you never even had your NEWTs…"

But Dad isn't having it. "Don't start that with me. This isn't about me, this is about _you."_

"Isn't it always…" I say this under my breath, but the halting hand on my arm lets me know that he's heard me perfectly.

"The next time you show up late to my class," he says lowly, "you'd better be prepared to give a full explanation for your tardiness to the entire class. And you'd better hope it's a proper explanation."

"Fine," I say, yanking my arm away. He makes me so furious sometimes. "God, why are you so concerned anyway?" I know I'm treading on thin ice, but at the moment, I can't help it.

"Because," he answers, not missing a beat, of course, "I'm your father, it's my _job _to be concerned."

"Well, you don't need to worry your precious head about it," I bite back, "I'm doing just fine in school."

"I hope you are," he says coolly, "because if you're not, then we've got some serious issues."

I know what this is about, and I challenge him to see if he'll admit it. He won't, of course, but we'll give it a go anyhow. "Are you just hacked off at me over the Quidditch team?" Both my parents favor my little brother, and as it's very obvious, they may as well admit to it. They're both mad at me because I cut Al from the team, but I'm sure neither of them is aware of his little arseholey behavior as of late…

Dad doesn't break eye contact with me as he says, "This has nothing to do with Quidditch, but if that's contributing to you not being able to make it to class on time, then perhaps we ought to reevaluate your schedule."

Now _he _is challenging _me. _I stare at him, trying to read his expression. I doubt he's serious, but I can't be positive. In all the times I've ever been in trouble in my life, he's never gone after my Quidditch… But surely he's not serious. "It's not," I say calmly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction but also not wanting to test him _too _much just in case he's serious.

Dad nods. "Good. Because if it is, I can assure you that I've got no problem handling that particular issue."

"It's not a problem," I repeat again. "I just left breakfast a little late, that's why I wasn't on time." This man is not going to take away my Quidditch.

He nods again, and he starts shuffling papers around on the desk. "You should also know," he begins slowly, "that Shacklebolt is planning to retire from Minister this year."

"Why?" Kingsley Shacklebolt has been Minister of Magic since before I was born. I can't imagine anyone else in office.

"He's getting quite old, and I imagine he wants to spend the rest of his years relaxing."

A thought hits me suddenly. "Oh, god… you're not going to do it, are you?"

"Do what?"

"Be the Minister…"

He shakes his head, and I let out a sigh of relief. Until a second later, of course, when he says, "Hermione is. Well, she's at least going to run. There'll be an election, of course."

_What? _Oh, fuck. I look at him incredulously, and I can tell he's a bit shocked by my reaction. "Does she hate her kids _that _much?! I mean, I know Rose is a pain in the ar-"

'Why would you assume that by running for Minister of Magic that she must hate her children?"

"Because why else would she put them through that?" Is he serious? Does he _really _not see the problem here? "That'll ruin their lives if she becomes Minister!"

It's obvious that Dad doesn't understand. Apparently he doesn't realize that being the child of the Minister of Magic is just about the worst imaginable thing to be for a teenager- right up with fat, spotty, and nose-picker. I hate Rose as much as the next kid, but even _I _wouldn't wish that on her. Or Hugo. Much less poor, defenseless Landon who'll have to grow up with it his whole life!

"Do Rose and Hugo know about this?"

Dad shakes his head. "Not that I'm aware of anyway. She asked me to talk to all of you about it."

"Tell her not to do it," I say firmly. "_Please _tell her not to do it."

Dad just stares at me. His face is one of confusion, but he regards me carefully. Finally, he avoids the subject and says, "You're going to be late for your next class. I don't want you disrupting two classes in one day."

"Dad," I say urgently, "I'm serious. Rose is going to go _mental…"_

"Well, that's between Rose and her parents," but I can tell he's starting to have second thoughts.

"Tell her it's a bad idea. Dad, _please."_

"You need to go to class, James," he says, ignoring me.

I give up. Dad isn't going to listen to me- what else is new? With a loud sigh and a disbelieving shake of the head, I leave him to it and head off toward Divination. At the moment, Divination doesn't sound half as loony as the idea of having an aunt for Minister of Magic.

Perhaps it's a good thing that my dad's at school this week… He may be able to catch Rose before she hangs herself from the Astronomy Tower. It'll only be a matter of time before she goes that route once she hears of her mum's plans.

And after all, I don't see _how _having a daughter commit suicide could _possibly _be good for one's political campaign…

--

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!


	16. Al, the Girl Potter

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 16

**AL, THE GIRL POTTER**

--

Everyone in the castle heard Rose scream.

I'm pretty sure even my Uncle Charlie in Romania heard her scream.

That's how loud it was.

Now to say that Rose can be a bit dramatic from time to time is an extreme understatement. When she wants to be, she can be the most over-dramatic person I've ever met in my entire life. She can't help it, of course. She's quite the (not so) perfect mix of her parents, and they both have slight tendencies to overreact to certain things as well…

Her mother gave her the news in a letter. I've since heard (through various people) that my dad actually told James before anyone else. Of course, James didn't bother to let anyone else know, and so Rose found out via written word that her mother is planning to announce her candidacy for Minister of Magic. And let's just say that she didn't react too well…

She screamed bloody murder, and I'm quite sure that several people thought she actually _was _being murdered. It certainly stopped our entire Common Room dead, and every single person stopped whatever they were doing to turn around and stare at her. My first reaction was that someone must be dead, and I panicked immediately and demanded to know what was wrong.

"My _mother _is running for _Minister of Magic!"  
_

The look on her face as she screeched out that statement was priceless. Of course, I didn't find it too awfully amusing at the time because she'd nearly given me a heart attack for no good reason because I thought someone must have died. I told her so, too, and she snapped at me that she'd _rather _be dead than be the daughter of the Minister of Magic.

After that, I didn't say too much else.

She eventually grabbed the letter, grabbed me, and marched both of us down to find my dad who happened to be down with my godfather in his room. They were both half-drunk (probably slightly more than half) and obviously weren't supposed to be that way at school around students… I guess it's a good thing that it was just Rose and me then because neither Dad nor Neville seemed too phased.

Until, of course, Rose started screaming again.

That girl can scream. That's putting it mildly. She is _loud. _And she is shrill. And she has a tendency to get a bit hysterical…

"What the _hell _is this?!"

She damn near hit my father right in the face as she shoved the parchment at him, and Dad didn't even have to look at the letter to know what it was about. He didn't exactly succeed at calming her down, either. She was far too gone, and she just kept _yelling…_

"Why is she trying to ruin my life?!"

And on and on it went… Dad even got a little angry with her and yelled at her a little bit, told her to grow up and stop being so dramatic and selfish. This was surprising, of course, because Dad is usually very capable of keeping his cool with Rose and talking her down whenever she starts getting like that. Rose, of course, wasn't fazed in the least. She's never really been bothered by getting yelled at or even getting punished, she and I are opposites on that. When we were younger, if we were caught doing something we shouldn't be doing, all it would take to get me to stop was for someone to narrow their eyes… Rose, on the other hand, would get that last warning- _"Do it one more time, and you're through"- _and not only _do _it again, but do it pointedly and deliberately and often look the person straight in the eyes who was threatening to beat her. She hasn't changed at all over the years, either, so all Dad's raised voice did was give her an excuse to get even _more _mental.

The official press release came the very next day. And the newspapers went crazy, of course.

Some of the articles were nice…

_Hermione Weasley, former war hero, has announced her intention to run in the upcoming election for Minister of Magic. The Senior staff member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement announced Tuesday that she plans on pursuing the office after current Minster Kingsley Shacklebolt retires next spring._

_Ms. Weasley began her Ministry career in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where she worked for thirteen years and left many notable effects. She is best known for her work on the House Elves Liberation Doctrine, which she composed and for which she fought diligently. She later accepted a transfer to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where she has proved to be an invaluable asset for the last nine years of her employment. She is the Senior staff member and oversees all aspects of the legal department._

_She is married to Auror and fellow war hero, Ron Weasley, and the pair have three children. Their daughter, Rose (aged fifteen), and their eldest son, Hugo (aged thirteen), both attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; their youngest son, Landon (aged two), is tutored at home by his parents. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are also, of course, considered to be the closest personal friends of Harry Potter and act as godparents to his eldest child._

_Should she be successful in her candidacy, Ms. Weasley would be the first ever Muggle-born Minister of Magic, as well as the first female. Many consider her to be the very change that the Ministry needs to make in order to finally accomplish a completely united front. _

Some… were not so nice.

_Senior Ministry official, Hermione Weasley, announced Tuesday that she plans to enter the election for the new Minister of Magic when current Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, retires next spring._

_Ms. Weasley is, of course, most well-known for her role in the war as close personal friend to Harry Potter. Ms. Weasley went into hiding with Mr. Potter and was able to escape her legal duties of registering as a Muggle-born, a law which was in place at the time of her disappearance. She has since become known as something of a decorated war hero despite the fact that there is very little evidence to support any actual significant contributions of hers to the demise of Voldemort._

_Her close relationship with Harry Potter did allow her to make a celebrated career at the Ministry of Magic, though, and she entered the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures when she was still in her teens, settling into a position traditionally reserved for much more experienced witches and wizards. During her years in that post, she fought to earn the rights of creatures she felt were being mistreated and taken advantage of, including drafting the House Elves Liberation Doctrine, a decree which freed all House Elves in Britain, many against their own will, of course. When she tired of that job, she moved on to a higher department and settled into a high position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, despite the fact that she was once recorded to say that she would never work in that field because she wanted to do good in the world. The nice title and significant salary raise, though, apparently allowed her to forget about her one-time worldly intentions. _

_Ms. Weasley entered the public light again three years ago when her daughter, then aged twelve, was kidnapped from her own house with her parents mere meters away. Her daughter was recovered, of course, and Ms. Weasley waged a highly-publicized expedited trial against the people she held responsible, despite opposing testimony from her own daughter in defense of the accused._

_Her most noted efforts in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have been her crusades at diminishing the rights and privileges traditionally afforded to Pureblood witches and wizards. She has made a career out of trying to lessen their rights while heightening the rights of Muggle-borns and Squibs, despite the fact that she herself has been married into a Pureblood family for nearly two decades. This is not a surprise, of course, as Ms. Weasley has always been rather ambitious and has always been careful to place herself in the company of people who can help her at getting ahead. Even as a teenager, she was reported to have been involved in a sordid love affair with both Harry Potter and now legendary Quidditch player, Viktor Krum. Those who have known Ms. Weasley over the years all attest to her never-ending desire to be the top at everything she attempts._

_Ms. Weasley is certainly the favorite to win the election, given her well-known name and well-placed connections within the Ministry. If she does win, she will became both the first Muggle-born and the first woman to ever hold the title of Minister of Magic, giving her even more power to promote her personal agenda against those witches and wizards with purer bloodlines than her own. It is safe to assume, though, that she will make exceptions for her husband and his family, both utilizing and protecting their own Pureblood status._

I don't even know what half that crap means.

I mean, obviously I'm very well aware of the fact that there are people who don't appreciate certain members of, or even my entire, family, but it's still weird to read things like that. I also don't know where people come up with half of the things that they write. There's no _way _that Aunt Hermione and my father ever had a "sordid affair," and I highly doubt that she ever had any type of affair with Viktor Krum, either, much less a sordid one. It's also shitty of whoever wrote that to imply that she's using the Weasley bloodline to further her career and that that's the only reason she ever married into the family. It's just stupid really, I don't understand why people have nothing better to do than sit around and make up lies.

Rose reads all of these articles, of course, and continues to go more and more mental each time one is published. There's a brand new one in _The Daily Prophet _this morning that I read and quickly hide from her. The further I can keep her from the paper, the better. There's no point whatsoever in encouraging her. Luckily, she's already a bit distracted and doesn't notice. Instead, she butters her toast so fiercely that it crumbles and continuously mutters under her breath about how she doesn't want to go to Defense.

Yeah, we've got it first thing. Bloody fantastic. I'm not exactly jumping with joy at the notion, either, to be honest. I don't like it when Dad shows up to teach, and it's even worse this year because I think he had a secret agenda for coming here (to make sure Rose doesn't poison herself), even though he won't admit it, of course. Still, though, it is what it is, and I head to class after breakfast, trying to think of it as little as possible. Rose walks along beside me, still muttering under her breath and, in general, being in a foul mood.

I'm surprised to find that we're actually among the first to arrive. The only other people in the classroom when we arrive are Allen and my dad. Allen doesn't hide the fact that he's staring Rose down, but we all just ignore him. Dad comes over to chat and perches himself on the desk in front of our own.

"You two look to be in pleasant moods this morning," he says, and I think he's probably only half-joking.

"It's early," I say, glancing at Rose who has an awful scowl on her face and is glaring into midair. Dad notices, too, and he snaps a bit in front of her face to make sure she's paying attention.

She turns the scowl to him instead.

"Wow, you're friendly this morning," he says sardonically.

Rose just glares. "I want to go back to bed," she says flatly.

"Well," Dad purses his lips a bit, "I hate that for you."

"You've no right to be sarcastic with me," Rose says pointedly. "Not after you had a sordid affair with my mother anyway." She isn't being serious, but she's not exactly joking, either- more looking for an excuse for her attitude.

Dad rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "I don't know why they're writing about that again, that was twenty-five years ago."

_What?_

Rose seems to have the same reaction. It's very obvious that she didn't expect it to be true, and her eyes go about twice their normal size. I'm pretty sure mine do, too, but it's Rose who sputters speechlessly for a few seconds and then says, "_It's true?!"_

"What?" Dad looks puzzled and stares at both of us for a moment before wrinkling his nose and shaking his head again. "No! It's not true! I meant it was twenty-five years ago that the papers made up that story the _first _time."

Whew. _That _almost crossed into uncharted territory…

Rose, though, uses it as yet another excuse to go on the defensive and glare some more. "What's wrong with my mum?" she demands, staring at my dad expectantly.

Dad just stares back and shakes his head slowly. "You're _impossible, _do you know that?" Rose narrows her eyes and pulls a face. "And you used to be so sweet… but then you learned how to talk."

Without missing a beat, Rose says, "I'm going to tell Mum you looked disgusted by the thought of having a sordid affair with her."

Dad simply rolls his eyes again. "I'm sure she'll be positively devastated."

Rose doesn't have time for a retort because the rest of our class is suddenly filling the room at once, all of them sliding anxiously into their seats in preparation for their morning with Harry Potter. Dad leaves us and goes back up to the front of the room, and at exactly a quarter of nine, he flicks his wand towards the back of the classroom and both of the doors go flying closed. Several people jump at the noise, but everyone looks awfully excited. Even I'm beginning to wonder what we can possibly be doing that requires such privacy.

"When I was thirteen years old, one of my dad's best friends taught me a spell that saved my life on more than one occasion." Oh, bully. Any story that starts out like _that _is simply _bound _to be a winner… "It was the Patronus Charm."

"The Patronus Charm is NEWT Level, _Professor Potter. _We're just Fifth Years_," _Rose says clearly with fake politeness. When he moves his eyes over to her, she flashes him a very fake smile.

Dad purses his lips for a moment and then returns both her fake smile and her fake tone. "Yes, thank you, _Miss Weasley, _I'm quite aware of your age, seeing as how I was there the day you were born. And yes, I understand that the Patronus Charm is generally NEWT level, which is precisely the reason why I closed the door."

Rose looks interested despite herself, and she doesn't even shoot back with a snarky comeback. Dad takes the momentary lapse in conversation to tell everyone to stand up, which we all do, and then he sends all of the desks flying to opposite sides of the room, leaving the entire middle of the room completely empty where we stand.

"The Patronus Charm is most commonly used to ward off certain types of aggressive creatures, like Dementors for example, but I'm sure most of you are aware that it can also be used to transport information from one person to the next." He takes a second to push his glasses back up his nose. "But that part of the Charm takes a lot of time to learn, so we'll start with simply producing them."

"Do you really think we'll be able to?" Elisabeth asks, and I can tell she's a bit wary about attempting something so advanced.

"All of my friends learned it in Fifth Year. It might be difficult, but you will eventually get it, I've no doubt."

Dad then beings a lecture on how to use happy memories to produce the Patronus and how each Patronus is unique to the individual and expresses something about their personality. People are listening with rapt attention, and I swear it's the first time I've ever seen these people look this into anything that doesn't involve Quidditch or gossip.

"_Expecto Patronum!" _Dad easily produces a silvery Patronus in the shape of a stag that gallops around the room at his command until he finally releases his hold on it and it vanishes into thin air.

A lot of people gasp and look as if they've never seen a Patronus in their life. Maybe some of them haven't, I don't know. I have seen this plenty of times, of course, and I know why Dad's takes the shape of a stag, too, because my grandfather was apparently a secret, unregistered Animagus that could turn into a stag. I don't know anyone who is a secret, unregistered anything, and I can only imagine that's because my generation is much more boring (and much more inept) than our predecessors.

Dad tells us to think of the happiest memory we can imagine and give it a shot. No one moves at first, and everyone just sort of stares at each other. Finally a few people raise their wands and make an attempt. Nothing really happens, though Susannah _does _manage to make a few little silvery wisps protrude from the tip of her wand.

Dad moves around the room, giving people pointers and trying to help out. I glance at Rose who hasn't yet moved. This is surprising, of course, because Rose is the best at everything and never hesitates at all when it comes to trying new spells and charms. She's got a puzzled look on her face, though, and I ask her what's wrong.

"I don't think I can do this," she says, and her voice sounds panicked as only hers would at the prospect of not being able to perfectly perform a charm on a first try. "I don't know what to think of."

"Dad just said to think of a happy memory."

"What are you thinking of then?" she asks, looking at me expectantly.

Fuck. What _am _I going to think of?

Unconsciously, my eyes drift over to Meghan who is standing with Susie and Elisabeth (apparently they've got custody of her today, as Rose is with me). She's as lost as everyone else but is still congratulating Susie at her little silver wisps. Obviously sensing my gaze, she turns and catches my eye. Oh, shit. It's okay, though, because she just gives me a little hopeful sort of smile and bulges her own eyes out in fake-exasperation. It makes me smile, too.

Rose, of course, follows my gaze and then makes a self-imposed gagging noise that jerks me out of oblivion.

"Way too obvious, Romeo," she says pointedly, though her voice is low.

I, of course, have no idea who Romeo is or what she's talking about, but that's pretty normal and pretty much an everyday occurrence. Instead of asking her to clarify, though, I aim a well-placed kick at her shin, which my dad just happens to see.

"Are you two too distracted to participate?" he asks, coming over to the corner where we're standing. Luckily, no one else is watching, as they're all too caught up in attempting to produce their own Patronus.

"Who taught you this?" I ask, avoiding the question. "Sirius?" Sirius, if you don't know, was my grandfather's best friend and my dad's godfather. But he died just like all the rest of them, probably mostly so my brother could have a middle name.

But Dad shakes his head. "Teddy's dad taught me. He was our Defense teacher Third Year."

I didn't know that. I bet Teddy's dad was cool, probably a lot nicer than Sirius (who I have a stinking suspicion was a bit of an arse- mostly because people always tell James how he's so much like him…). Teddy himself is cool, so I can't imagine that his parents weren't. Teddy is the kind of person you'd actually really _want _as a brother. When I was younger, I used to wish that he was my _real _brother and that James was the one who only came over on the weekends and holidays (or never at all). Of course, I made the mistake of saying this out loud once when I was at Rose's, and her mum got really mad and said I shouldn't say things like that and then made me write an essay on why it's important to love and respect our siblings. That's the thing about Aunt Hermione… If you got in trouble anywhere else, you'd just get yelled at or sent to the corner or whatever else was fairly normal for punishment. But if you got in trouble at Aunt Hermione's house, she'd make you do something like think about what you did wrong and write a report on why you shouldn't have done it in the first place and why you shouldn't do it again. I _swear _that is why Rose is so smart today, though- it's because she wrote more essays by the time she was five than most people write their entire lives. She got in trouble a _lot _(still does).

"I don't think I can do this," Rose says, twirling her wand between her fingers and looking at my dad pointedly.

"Why not?"

She shrugs. "I have this feeling."

"I thought you didn't believe in Divination?" He raises his eyebrows at her, and she rolls her eyes.

"I don't, it's stupid and a waste of time."

"Then give it a try."

Rose sighs loudly but raises her wand nonetheless, concentrates, and then says, _"Expecto Patronum!"_

Nothing happens.

"You've got to think of something really good," Dad says, but Rose just rolls her eyes again.

"My mother is trying to ruin my life, I'm pretty much out of happy feelings."

"A _memory."_

Sighing loudly once more, Rose tries it again. Still, nothing happens.

"I can't _do _this!" she says, and this time she actually sounds upset. I can imagine why. She's never not been able to do anything in her entire life.

Dad frowns and then shakes his head just a bit. "Unbelievable…" Rose looks at him and cocks her head in expectance of an explanation. Dad runs a hand through his hair, and it stands up even more than normal. "This is the only spell I ever saw your mother have trouble with."

This seems to switch something on inside of Rose, and she immediately raises her wand and keeps trying, clearly trying to be better than her mother. She's concentrating so hard that I can't imagine she's going to be able to focus on any sort of happy memory.

Dad moves onto me. "Have you tried it yet?"

I shake my head, and really, I wish he'd go away. I don't want him standing here watching as I try (and inevitably fail) to do something he did when he was thirteen. He isn't going anywhere, though, so I give it a shot.

I don't know what to think of, though. I try something stupid like Quidditch, try to focus on the first time we won the House Cup… but obviously Quidditch is a bit of a sore subject with me at the moment, so it doesn't really work too well. I glance at Rose who is still trying and looks to be focusing so hard that I think her head might explode. I glance around at everyone else, and I'm surprised to see that Susie has managed to produce a tiny little rabbit, which is now hopping around her much to everyone else's enthusiasm. Dad is distracted, too, and he calls congratulations to her from across the room. Her entire group looks over and smiles, and I catch Meghan's eye once again.

Unconsciously, I find myself thinking about how pretty her smile is, and on a whim, I give the charm another shot. _"Expecto Patronum!" _And holy shit. It _works. _Several silver things shoot out from the tip of my wand, and a little dog appears right in front of me. Of course, I'm so shocked by its appearance that I immediately lose my concentration, and it vanishes into thin air.

Rose has seen it, though, and she looks like she's fighting somewhere between being happy for me and hating me for doing something before her. Dad saw it, too, and he claps me on the top of the head and says, "Well done, mate!"

"What did you think of?" Rose demands, and I feel my stupid cheeks heating up. _Why _did my mother have to be a Weasley?

"It wasn't really a memory," I say, twisting on the spot uncomfortably. "Is that okay?" I look at my father who shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head.

"It worked, didn't it?"

"Oh, gross," Rose says, apparently comprehending exactly what spawned such a good feeling.

Dad looks at her and then to me, and I sort of want to murder her. Luckily, though, he doesn't push it, just smirks a little and goes off to help another group. I glare at her the second he's gone, but she has already erupted into giggles.

"You're such a _girl," _she says through her laughter, and she ducks as I try to smack her.

And I can't help it, I laugh, too.

--

A/N: Please review!!


	17. Scorpius, Pureblood

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 17

**SCORPIUS... PUREBLOOD.**

--

So, there have been two very good things to happen lately.

One, I was able to produce a full Patronus in Harry Potter's Defense Against the Dark Arts class- something no one else in my entire class was able to accomplish.

And two, I have now officially employed Harry Potter's niece as my tutor. And by employed, I mean, she is helping me voluntarily and I'm not paying her anything. I don't even particularly _need _a lot of help actually, as I'm not really too awful at any of my lessons. I can always be better, though, I suppose anyway. And Rose Weasley is the top in everything, so who better to give me help?

It doesn't hurt, of course, that I think I'm in love with her.

Yes, I know, it's weird and creepy and obsessive. And I probably shouldn't say I'm in love with her when we've really only had a handful of conversations, most of which have dealt with school. And anyway I don't know if I'm in _love_ with her, I'm just fifteen… But you know, if I was going to _be _in love with someone, I would definitely want it to be her.

She's just beautiful. I swear I don't know how it's possible to be so pretty… And she's brilliant, of course, amazingly smart and knows things most people couldn't even imagine. And now that I've actually started speaking to her a bit, I can officially say that she's quite hilarious as well. She isn't funny in the way of a person who tells a lot of jokes or anything like that, though- she's funny in the way of a person who constantly has a sarcastic comeback for everything she hears and has more secretly hilarious snide remarks than one person should ever possess. She says she's that way because the only way to put up with half of her family is to take the piss without them noticing.

She even acknowledges me in public now. It's not like she's shooing away her friends and inviting me to the Gryffindor table for lunch or anything like that, but she smiles at me in the corridors and speaks to me during the classes that we've got together. And she helps me every Thursday night in the library and goes over my homework and helps me revise or whatever else I need to do that night.

And it's amazing.

She's not in a good mood tonight, though, I can tell from the way she slams her bag down onto the table and huffs as she falls into her chair. She's sort of been like that all week every time I've seen her. Should I ask her what's wrong? Is that nosey? If I don't, she might think I'm a git. Maybe she _wants _me to ask, maybe that's why she's being so dramatic…

That's got to be it.

"What's wrong?" I ask, trying my hardest to sound neither too interested nor too _un_interested.

"None of your business, Malfoy," she snaps back, narrowing those normally beautiful brown eyes in my direction.

Okay, then.

Maybe I should just go. She clearly isn't in the mood to help me, and she apparently hates me at the moment. I don't _think _I've done anything, but how am I supposed to know if I _did? _I don't say anything at all, mostly because I've no idea _what _to say.

But then she shakes her head as though shaking herself out of oblivion. "Sorry," she says (rather bitterly). "That was bitchy."

I still say nothing. I mean, what am I _supposed _to say? Obviously asking her what's wrong was _not _the right thing to say…

"I'm just irritated," she mumbles, and she starts pulling books out of her bag and lining them up on the desk.

Now, despite the fact that I can actually _speak _to her now without wanting to puke, I still don't particularly _know _Rose Weasley. I do know a few things, of course, as I _have _made rather a habit of stalking her for the past five years… I know random things, though- I know about her habit of pulling her hair back when she studies; I know she likes her baby brother much better than the one she's got here; I know her favorite color is green; I know she always crosses her Ts and dots her Is the second that she writes them instead of waiting until she's done with the word. (I'm also aware that you probably think I'm crazed and obsessed, but I'm actually just really observant…). However, one thing I _don't _know is how open she is to talking about certain things- most notably, exactly what's put her in such a piss poor mood at the moment.

I decide to take a chance.

"If you don't feel like it, we can do this some other time…"

And… apparently I was wrong to take that chance. "Why?" she snaps, whipping her head up to face me. "Are you afraid I take after my mother and that I'm going to try and secretly take away all your powers? Or haven't you read the newspaper? Don't you know my family _hates _Purebloods?"

Huh?

I really haven't a clue as to what she's talking about… I don't really read the papers all that much, no. Dumbly, I ask a rather obvious question.

"Er, isn't your father Pureblood?"

Her eyes narrow dangerously, and I'm pretty sure that she's trying to kill me with her mind. "Of course he is!" she snaps hatefully. "But that apparently makes no difference whatsoever!"

Okay. So, as you can probably guess, I'm very confused. I have no idea what she's on about, and frankly, I'm far too scared to ask. So I just stare at her. And when I don't make any sort of noise, she rolls her eyes and yanks out what appears to be the evening copy of _The Oracle. _With a rather loud huff, she thrusts it at me.

_MINISTER HOPEFUL SEEKS BAN ON PUREBLOOD MARRIAGES_

_Ministry official and current Minister of Magic candidate, Hermione Weasley, is seeking to put an end to the few remaining pure bloodlines in the British Wizarding community. In a statement made Thursday, Ms Weasley was quoted as saying, "Well, obviously there will always be prejudices in the world, and many of those prejudices will be based on bloodlines. This isn't something that can be fixed or go away, not unless every Pureblood witch and wizard in the world was to marry and reproduce with someone of a different bloodline anyway."_

_Weasley, a Muggle-born, has long-since made it her own personal mission to promote the rights of her own kind while diminishing the rights of others. Based off of statements like the one quoted earlier, it is easy to see exactly what her main mission in running for public office is. Should she be elected, there is no doubt that she will work to no end in accomplishing her goal of creating a completely Half-blood and less Wizarding society._

_Ms. Weasley is, of course, ironically married to a Pureblood herself._

When I finish the short article, I look up at Rose warily. I'm not sure how she wants me to react. Surely she doesn't believe this tosh… It's _The Oracle…_ They're known for little more than being a piece of shit rag that spreads lies and rumors and rarely reports any sort of truth at all. No one takes them seriously.

"Well?" she demands suddenly, her eyes widening as she looks at me expectantly.

"Well, what?" I ask nervously, setting the paper down and fidgeting slightly.

"Well, is that what you think? Is that why you don't want to study tonight?" she demands rapidly, and her eyes are blazing dangerously.

When I said I was a little scared, I lied. I'm actually a _lot _scared.

"I… um, I… I don't _not _want to study," I mumble. "I just, um, I didn't know if you felt like it…"

Fuck me, I'm the biggest fucking loser on the whole fucking planet. _Fuck._

Rose still looks rather huffy, but at least she's stopped snapping. Instead, she says, in a much calmer tone, "I'm fine. I just hate that shit." She motions toward the paper, and I take the liberty of wadding it up into a ball and sending it soaring toward the rubbish bin.

"It's just all crap anyway," I tell her in what I _hope _is an encouraging sort of voice. "_The Oracle, _I mean. You know."

Apparently she does because she gives me a (very small) smile and her eyes go back to their beautiful naturalness (natural beautifulness?), and she opens up her Charms book without another word.

We get through the tutoring session fairly quickly. She's actually a magnificent teacher, and even though I don't particularly need a ton of help, she does make it much easier for me to understand some of the more difficult topics. It isn't long, though, before it's time to head back to our respective Common Rooms.

We chat mindlessly and almost _easily _about all sorts of random things as we leave the library and start wandering out into the corridors. Slytherin and Gryffindor are actually in the same general direction, so we walk together for awhile, and I'm surprised at how much easier talking to her is getting to be. It's nice.

Until, of course, we hear something about as far from nice as it's possible to be…

I'm not entirely positive that I've heard correctly, but I'm fairly certain that I have, as Rose stops dead in her tracks beside me with a look on her face that's about twenty times worse than the ones she was giving me earlier in the library.

"Yeah, once her Mudblood mother gets into office, they'll be taking over the Ministry completely, I expect."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out exactly who they're speaking about, but seeing as how Rose pretty much _is _a genius, she cottons on rather quickly. Without a single word, she turns slowly on the spot to view the speaker. Maddox Harrington is standing there with a couple of his mates (Sixth Years, Slytherins. Of course. Yay, us.) They all watch Rose as closely as she watches them. They don't say anything at all, and I can't tell whether they're frightened of her or whether they're simply silently taunting her.

She tires of their silence pretty quickly, though. "What did you say?" she asks lowly, her voice creepily menacing. No one answers her, and she stares at them expectantly, her eyes narrowed so much that they're little more than slits now. After several long moments of silence, she grows even more irritated. "Don't be quiet now," she snaps hatefully. "Say it to my face!"

Something tells me that I should step in and intervene because this can only possibly end one way- _badly. _However, I'm pretty sure that were I to say anything at all right now that I'd be hexed (from either side most likely…). I do wish I was invisible, though. I know what my Housemates are thinking, and it's not very nice to say the least.

Aaron Rholda proves my point a second later.

"What's this, Malfoy?" he sneers. "Got a new girlfriend, have you? Bet your dad'll _love _that."

_Please make me disappear, please make me disappear, please make me disappear. _

"Come off it," Maddox speaks up finally. "His family's probably voting for her mum." (Yeah, right). "It's quite fashionable to support Mudbloods these days, or haven't you heard?"

That does it. Rose snaps. Literally _snaps._

I don't know if she's forgotten that she's a witch or if she simply prefers physical violence. Regardless, she flies at Maddox so quickly that no one can even move before she's attacked him. She shoves him so roughly that he falls to the ground, completely caught off-guard. Rose aims a hard kick right at his ribs, and he grabs them with a loud, _"OOOF!"_

As everyone else stands around in shock, Rose falls down on top of him and starts beating the shit out of him. She lands a rather rough punch directly at his mouth, and his lip splits instantly. When she lifts her fist again, it's dripping with blood, but I don't know if it's his or hers… He struggles to free himself, but she's got him pinned down so tightly that he can barely move, much less get up. He doesn't hit her back for whatever reason (either because he's a pansy or because she's a girl or maybe both), but he does make a show out of trying to block his face from her hands as she starts to claw at it angrily.

Maddox's mates are doing much the same that I am, standing there watching in blatant shock. I don't know why they don't help him, but I reckon they're too caught off-balance to even move. A small group of people rounds the corner, and they all gasp loudly at the scene in front of them. A few run right over, eager to watch the fight, and a few hang back in shock.

"Rose!"

James Potter is in that group apparently, and he wastes no time whatsoever in running straight over and trying to extract his cousin from the fight. He grabs her shoulders, and she shrugs him away the first time, still concentrating completely on bloodying Maddox Harrington's face as much as possible. Finally, he yells at her- "_Damn it, Rose!"- _and manages to grab her again and yank her roughly to her feet.

She is panting and is _very _red-faced, but she seems to suddenly realize exactly where she is and what's going on. James has still got her by the shoulders and he looks at her incredulously. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

Rose wipes at her face, and I wonder if she's going to start crying. I hope not. That's exactly what those arseholes want… Her hair has gone out of control, and she looks a lot younger suddenly. She avoids eye contact with everyone, including James, and I wonder what has to be going on in her mind right now…

Aaron and some other bloke called Willis are helping Maddox to his feet, and I chance a glance at him. He's as red as Rose is, but unlike her, he's sporting more evidence of a fight than simply out of control hair… He wipes at his face, too, but he's wiping away the blood from his lip, which has already started swelling. He's got some long scrapes along his cheeks as well, and _fuck, _Rose must have his skin under her fingernails!

"You stay away from me," he spits out breathlessly, his eyes wild as he looks over at Rose and James. Wiping away some more blood, he can't help but add, "Crazy bitch!"

Something flashes in Rose's eyes at that, and I'm pretty sure she's about to whip out her wand and fucking Avada Kedavra his arse or something. But it isn't she who reacts this time.

It's James.

He lets go of her shoulders and whips around so fast that I'm surprised his neck doesn't snap. "You shut your fucking mouth," he says, and everyone in the corridor either gasps or shrieks when he punches Maddox so hard in the nose that his head goes flying back and cracks against the stone wall.

Do these people never use wands or what? It must be a family thing…

"How does it feel to get your arse beat by a girl?" James asks maliciously, pinning Maddox against the wall easily. Almost breezily, he shoves into him even more roughly. I guess he doesn't really want an answer to his question, though, because he goes right on. "If you _ever _fuck with her again, I'll fucking kill you, you piece of shit," he threatens seriously. And then as if to add to the seriousness of it, he punches him again, and Maddox's nose breaks with a sickening crack. Now there's a _lot _of blood, and it's all over both of them.

"_James!"_

Nobody has even noticed the appearance of both Professor Longbottom _and _Harry Potter, and several people gasp and move out of the way nervously. I try to make myself as flat against the wall as possible, praying, of course, that no one notices me.

James lets go of Maddox almost immediately at the sound of his father's voice, but he doesn't break eye contact with him, still glaring as evilly as ever. I glance over at Rose who hasn't so much as said a word since she was pulled away from her own fight. Her face is still as red as her hair, and she's nearly trembling with what I suspect is actual real, raw anger. Her uncle is looking at the whole scene as though he doesn't know whether to be confused or furious. He looks from Rose to James and then back again before finally demanding an answer.

"What the _hell _is going on?"

Most people scurry away, no one wants to get caught at this scene. I don't blame them. I want to go, too, but for some reason I can't force myself to move.

"He was fucking with Rose!" James says angrily, glaring at Maddox again before looking at his father who is very obviously _very _angry.

"She tried to _kill _me!" Maddox bursts out, and he wheezes with exhaustion at the effort of such a long sentence.

And then Rose finally breaks her silence…

"He called my mum a _Mudblood!"_

The collective group of gasps that the still-assembled crowd lets out remind me of the fact that only a few people heard the conversation that started the initial fight… No one moves for a second until James loses it all over again.

"_What?! _You fucking-"

He lunges for Maddox again, but his dad catches him easily this time, shoving him back with a sharp, _"Don't," _and narrowing his eyes. James looks like he wants to murder someone, but his dad is clearly not going to allow that.

"Yeah, _don't," _Maddox wheezes again, pinching his nose to stop some of the bleeding. "Because I'll-"

But Harry Potter isn't having any of that, either. He snaps around to glare at Maddox so hatefully that even _I _get chills, and I'm nearly invisible by the wall…

"_You_ shut your mouth," he says lowly. Dangerously…

_No one _says anything at all. Maddox goes even whiter than he already is from lack of blood. Apparently, he hasn't got enough balls to contradict Harry Potter at least, so he does as instructed and shuts his mouth.

The whole corridor is completely silent as the two adults look at each other. Professor Longbottom nods and says he'll handle it. Harry Potter nods as well and then looks back at James.

"Go," he says, and his voice leaves absolutely no room for argument. James glares at Maddox one final time before scowling his face up and marching angrily down the corridor. Rose is still standing there red-faced when her uncle points down the hall in an instruction to follow her cousin. She doesn't move at first, so he finally says, "_Rose," _with a tone that clearly means business and grabs her by the upper arm. She sort of glares at him for a second, but the she crosses her arms angrily and allows herself to be led away as the pair of them follow James down the corridor.

She doesn't so much as glance my way.

I don't stick around to see what Longbottom does to Maddox. All I want to do is climb into bed and fall asleep. I feel sick to my stomach, and I don't know why. It isn't as if I haven't been raised up hearing shit like that… but I guess I've never seen how it affects people before. The way Rose snapped at hearing that word was downright scary… I wonder if anyone's ever said it to her mother's face, and if they have, I wonder how she reacted.

I'm lying, though, when I say I don't know why I feel sick to my stomach…

The very first time I ever remember hearing that word, I was probably about five or six years old, and my dad was reading a newspaper article that talked about this woman, who obviously I didn't know at that time would someday run for Minister of Magic, much less be the mother of the most brilliant girl in the world… I guess it must have been right after she started working in the Law department because Father was angry that she'd got that sort of promotion. And then he told my mother something about a "know-it-all Mudblood" taking over the Ministry. And when I asked what it meant, he told me. As if it was nothing.

And that was that.

So yes, I know exactly why I feel as though I want to throw up. And it's nothing at all to do with anything I ate for dinner.

--

A/N: Okay, so I realize this chapter wasn't as sweet and innocent as the previous Scorpius chapter, but this story is called "Lessons Learned" for a reason, and it's coming to a point where they're all about to start learning some very important lessons… Please review!!


	18. Rose, HalfBlood

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 18

**ROSE, HALF-BLOOD.**

--

Pureblood.

A witch or wizard who is born into a completely Wizarding family. No trace of Muggle blood anywhere in the pedigree. My father.

Muggle-born.

A witch or wizard who is born into a Muggle family. Both parents are Muggles, and there are usually no known close magical relatives. My mother.

Half-blood.

A witch or wizard born into a family mixed with both Wizarding blood and Muggle blood. Me.

That's what I am. A Half-blood, essentially a mutt. One side of my family is completely Muggle, and I don't even know most of them. The only ones I see on a regular basis are my grandparents, and I don't even see _them _too terribly often. The rest of my mum's family is completely in the dark as to the fact that my mum is a witch. I'm pretty sure they think she's some sort of accountant or something; they definitely aren't aware of the fact that she's running for the highest of public offices… The other side of my family is completely Wizarding. And I know them, probably a bit _too _well. It's rather annoying actually.

There're too many of us, and it's very easy to get lost in the shuffle of all my cousins. I'm sort of right in the middle of them all- not actually considered one of the _older _kids, but not one of the _younger _ones, either. I'm not one of the beautiful ones (stupid Veelas), and I'm not one of the particularly hilarious ones, either. Yes, I'm the "smart" one, but who cares about that? I'm just there. And I don't really know different, so it's not like I can be upset about it… Not really anyway. It's just bloody _annoying._

And then there's the fact that I don't particularly get along with any of my cousins too well, none besides Al, of course. I don't mind some of the older ones- Victoire and Dominique… they're okay. And the younger ones aren't that bad, either- Roxanne is actually quite fabulous… But for the most part, they're all a bunch of prats who love to make every day of my life a living hell.

And _none _more than James Sirius Potter.

James and I, well, we've never been too nice to each other. Most of my early childhood memories involve him trying to throw bugs on me or yanking my hair so hard that I burst into tears. It never really got better as we got older- we still fight, still disgust each other, and still generally make each other's lives hell. But a big part of that is to do with the fact that our immediate families are _so _close that we're really more like brother and sister than simply cousins. His parents are my _godparents, _and my parents are _his. _So really, we've got a sibling-type bond if nothing else.

Am I surprised that he punched Maddox Harrington straight in the face after he called me a crazy bitch? Not at all really. That's how James and I are. We're _family _no matter how much we fight. He isn't going to let some fuckwit stand there and call me names. Of course, everyone would have been much better off if this fight had happened on a night when my uncle _wasn't _roaming the halls (everyone besides Maddox anyway, he'd probably be dead).

And now we're in trouble.

Big trouble, I imagine, though as of right now, we're both still alive. James looks pissed off at the entire world, and Uncle Harry's left us alone for a few minutes (probably to work up his voice so that he can yell at us for several hours). I'm angry, too, but it's hard to focus on that when all I can think about is the throbbing pain in my hand. I didn't think about splitting my own knuckles when I split that prat's lip. I've never actually punched anyone before. As much as I don't get along with the majority of my family, most of our fights consist of a lot of yelling and name-calling and the occasional shoving fit before someone comes along and breaks it up. Honestly, I don't know what got into me. I've never reacted like that to anything before… But hearing someone say that about my mum… well, I don't know, it just really hit me the wrong way.

"Can you help me?" I ask, looking up at James, who is sitting at a table all by himself in the empty classroom that his dad shoved us into. He raises his eyebrows at me, and I lift up my bleeding hand. "It's my wand-hand, and I'm scared to try to fix it with my wrong one," I explain.

James rolls his eyes but motions me over nonetheless. I get up and walk over to him, holding my hand out for his inspection. He studies it for a second before pulling out his wand and muttering a simple healing spell. The skin immediately starts to grow back, and while the pain is still there, it almost instantly starts to dissipate.

"Thanks," I mutter. I wonder if he knows how hard it is for me to say that… "And thanks for taking up for me," I mumble quickly, almost hoping that he doesn't hear me.

I guess he does, though, because he sort of shrugs nonchalantly. "He shouldn't be fucking with girls."

James says this- plays the helpless girl card- but it's not really true. He wouldn't get in a fight for just any random girl… The only girls in our entire school that he'd punch somebody over are probably Lily and me. Of course, I don't point this out because it makes him feel better if he thinks I believe that he was just taking up for me because I'm a poor, defenseless girl and not because he has some sort of deep-seated actual concern for me. So I let it slide.

"Why didn't you tell me he said that about your mum?" he asks suddenly, looking up at me. I sit down backwards in a chair at the desk in front of him.

"I was too mad to say anything," I shrug. "Nobody's ever said that to me before…"

"Well, I could have broken more than his nose if you'd have told me."

I don't doubt this. James is really strong-, surprising, I know, since his dad is rather small. But a lot of his mum's brothers (including my dad) are rather large, tall and some are quite muscular. James is tall, I suppose (taller than me anyway, and I'm definitely on the tall side for girls), and considering the fact that he doesn't care about _anything _besides Quidditch, he's definitely not scrawny. So I'm very sure that if he ever found the need or had the desire that he could definitely do quite a bit of damage on someone's face. He probably could have, too, if his dad hadn't shown up and ruined the whole thing.

Speaking of… someone's coming, and yeah, it's him. Uncle Harry is back, and he still looks as mad as he was before as he closes the door behind him and looks stonily at us. I take a chance and glance back at James who is looking disinterestedly into the air in front of him.

"I'm going to give you a chance to explain," Uncle Harry says in what is _very _obviously a forced calm tone.

I look at James again, but he doesn't seem too interested in giving any sort of defense. He just sits there and says nothing. I don't know whether that's a cue for me to go first or whether I should follow his lead and just say nothing.

"Rose?"

Huh? I look up, and Uncle Harry is looking at me expectantly. I guess that means I'm supposed to go first. Maybe I should copy James and just stare blankly into space.

"_Rose!"_

Okay, maybe not.

"Um," I blink several times and try to make myself appear as disoriented as possible. "I… I was just mad."

"You were just mad?" he repeats, and he raises his eyebrows at me.

"He was saying really awful things…"

"He was saying really awful things?"

"He's going to keep doing that," James pipes up. "He's going to repeat everything you say as a question."

I don't have to tell you that this doesn't get a very good reaction. It does have _one _good effect, though, because Uncle Harry definitely isn't concerned with me anymore.

"Maybe you should do yourself a favor and watch your mouth," he says immediately, looking straight at James who doesn't seem fazed in the least.

"What?" he asks innocently. "I'm just telling her that's what you do. It _is _what you do."

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you," Uncle Harry says in disbelief, "but I'm getting sick of it personally."

"There's nothing wrong with me," James replies, completely nonplussed. "I'm just telling the truth."

"You are out of control!"

James snorts, actually snorts. If there were ever an opportune time to disappear, right now would be it. Unfortunately, I'm only fifteen, and we don't start Apparation lessons until Sixth Year.

"What the hell is so funny?" Uncle Harry demands, and James rolls his eyes.

"What did you want me to do, Dad?" he asks pointedly. "Was I supposed to just stand there and let that idiot call her a bitch and whatever else he had in his head?"

"There is nothing wrong with standing up for people, but when you start going 'round punching them and breaking noses, then yes, it's a real problem!"

"Then I'm sorry," James says, and even a deaf person could tell he's not sorry at all. "I'm sorry that I overreacted and that I let my temper get the best of me, and I'm sorry that I'm not fucking _perfect."_

"Nobody expects you to be perfect."

But James just shakes his head in what's obviously disbelief. "You've been expecting it my whole life. The whole fucking _world _expects it!"

Uncle Harry crosses his arms and narrows his eyes. "You _really _need to get over yourself. I'm sorry you've got _such _a hard life."

And then James seems to lose it. Instead of just speaking sarcastically and disbelievingly, he actually raises his voice to a very, _very _unsafe tone. "_You_ don't have any idea what kind of life I've got because you've never cared enough to find out!"

"James, you need-"

"I need to what, Dad?! I need to sit here and keep my mouth closed and act as if you've got half a _clue _about _anything _that goes on in my life?! It's real easy for you to stand there and say I should do this or I should do that or act this way or act that way… you've got no _idea _what it's like to be your son! How would you like to be seventeen and be Harry Potter's son?!"

Okay, seriously. So when I said I wanted to disappear earlier… well, now I _definitely _want to disappear. I think they've both forgot that I'm here actually.

Uncle Harry looks outraged, and he slams his hand down onto the table in front of James. James doesn't flinch, but I think things are about to get really bad. I wonder if I can make it to the door with no one noticing…

"_You've _got no idea what it's like to be seventeen and _be _Harry Potter!" Uncle Harry's eyes are blazing in a way I've never seen before. I've seen him mad, of course, but never like this. "You're such a spoilt little brat! You've no _idea _how easy you've got it or how much people sacrificed for you! Both of you!" Oh, great, he's remembered I'm here… He glares at me like I'm James or something, and then he goes right on with his tirade. "Both of you, you've got everything any kids could ever want! You don't have to worry about _anything! _And yet, you sit there and whine about shit like this because you've got no _idea _what it's like to have _real _problems!"

"And whose fault is that?" James challenges, his eyes flashing just like his father's. "Whose fault is it that we've got no idea about that stuff? You've never bothered to tell us any of it, so you can't stand there and act like we should know everything when every _bit _of it that we know came from a book!"

"We were trying to _protect _you!"

"Then don't get mad when we know exactly what you wanted us to know."

I agree with him. I would speak up and say this out loud, but I don't have the chance because his dad shoots back nearly instantly.

"We didn't want you to grow up as entitled brats who think the world owes you something just because you wake up in the morning! Maybe you should try being thankful for everything that you've got and grateful to everyone who sacrificed everything they had so that you could grow up safely!"

"Well, sorry, Dad," James says sarcastically, standing up as he speaks. "I'm sorry that I'm such a bloody _disappointment _to you, but you don't have to worry because after this year, you can _finally_ get rid of me. Maybe you'll finally be happy then."

Now, I'm sort of an expert on dramatics, and even _I _have to admit that James is laying it on pretty thick. The awful thing, though, is that he doesn't seem to notice it himself. It almost seems like he's being serious and that he actually believes the stuff coming out of his mouth… If he weren't such a gigantic prat, I might even feel a bit sorry for him.

With one last glare at his dad, he grabs his wand off the table and stalks toward the door.

"Don't even think about it!" Uncle Harry orders sharply. "Sit back down!"

But James is gone. I guess he doesn't care at all that he's probably just dug his own grave and is set to be buried at any given moment. He walks straight out of the room and disappears up the corridor. His dad looks after him, furious, and I kind of think he might follow him and drag him back here by the nape of his hair. But he doesn't. Instead, he rounds on me, his eyes still flashing dangerously.

"I'm calling your father," he snaps. "Your mother has enough to worry about without _this _stupid stuff."

"Doesn't she always," I mutter under my breath. He hears me, though, and I gasp when he grabs my arm and yanks me out of my chair. I wonder briefly if he's going to hit me and think of how unfair _that _would be when it was James who got him all wound up.

But, of course, he doesn't hit me. He's never hit me. Instead, he just shakes me a little bit and says, "Grow _up, _Rose! The whole bloody world does not revolve around you!"

I've seriously never seen him like this before, _so _angry that he really looks like he's about to lose it. It's scary.

"I… I'm sorry," I finally mumble, though I don't even know what I'm apologizing for. I just feel sick all of a sudden. I can't even look at him because I can't stand the way his eyes look right now.

He's still got a grip on my arm, and he doesn't let up. "You can't go flying off the handle every time somebody says something you don't want to hear," he goes on, and his voice sounds slightly less harsh than before but it's still not the least bit friendly. "People are always going to say things about you, and they're going to say things about your family and about your friends, and you've got to learn when to ignore it. You can't go around punching people just because they're arseholes!" He pauses a second, and then, almost as an afterthought, adds, "You're just like your dad."

I don't know why, but I'm shaking just a little bit. Not enough to even really notice, but I notice, of course, because it's me. Uncle Harry's still got my arm, and he's holding it so tightly that it hurts. I feel either like I want to puke or cry, and apparently my body decides for me because I feel my eyes getting wet. Uncle Harry notices, too, and he grips me even tighter.

"Don't even try it," he says seriously. "I'm not your mother. You can cry all you want, I don't care."

"It hurts," I say quietly, blinking back the tears in an attempt to stop them as I glance down at the hand he currently has wrapped around my forearm.

He lets go of me then, and he doesn't say anything as I reach up gingerly to rub the place he's just been gripping. I'm not going to cry. I'm _not _going to cry.

"I'm sorry," I say again, this time just as stuttered and quiet. I still won't look him in the eye. "And it was my fault," I go on, "James was just taking care of me…"

"You don't have to make excuses for James. He is responsible for himself the same way you are." His voice is much calmer now, but it's clear that he's still not _too _overly pleased with me. Instead, he just seems rather exasperated. "Rose, you've _got _to start thinking."

My arm still hurts. I'm pretty sure that it's bruised. I rub it absently and nod slightly, though I say nothing.

"Look Rose," and he takes me by the shoulders, very gently this time, and forces me to look at him. "I love you, and that's why I don't want you to end up in trouble. You know that, right?"

I hate when adults do this. When they make you feel so fucking guilty. I have no choice but to look at him now, and his eyes aren't nearly as angry as they were moments ago. I nod, but just barely.

"You and James and _all _of you… all we want is to make sure that you have everything that you need. And we just want you to do well."

I've heard this lecture before. It sounds like the letter my mum wrote me a few weeks ago. Hearing it out loud, though, makes it much worse. I don't say anything because I don't know _what _to say. So I just look at him, and he finally shakes his head.

"Go to bed. You look like you're about to fall over."

I still feel rather sick, and I'm not completely positive that I'm not going to vomit on his shoes still. "Aren't you going to call my dad?"

He shakes his head again. "You need to go to sleep. We'll deal with it tomorrow." He lets go of me and takes a step back. Maybe by tomorrow he'll forget that I'm due to be punished. Not likely, but I can hope…

I leave without encouraging him anymore. I _am _rather tired after all. My head is throbbing, my arm is sore, and my hand still hurts a bit from where my knuckles were split. I don't even realize that I've walked so far until I find myself at the Portrait Hole. The Fat Lady looks at me and shakes her head.

"You look a right sight," she says disapprovingly.

I ignore her and give her the password, "Billingsworth."

Since she has no other option, she sighs loudly and swings open to let me in. It's rather late, so there aren't too many people still downstairs. A few people look up as I enter, but no one really pays me much attention. I see Al jump up immediately, though, and I know he's been waiting up for me. He's alone at a table attempting to study apparently, and I go over to him, still feeling a bit ill.

"What happened?" he asks immediately.

"I got in a fight with Maddox Harrington," I reply listlessly.

"I know _that," _he says impatiently. "But what happened?"

"He called my mother a Mudblood, and I got upset. So I punched him. And then James showed up, and Maddox called me a crazy bitch, so James punched him, too. And then your dad showed up, and he dragged James and me away and yelled at us. And then he and James got in a really big fight. And now James is in a lot of trouble." I say all of this quickly, wanting to get straight to the point. Al brightens up a bit at the end and looks secretly pleased.

"Good," he says flatly. "I hope he doesn't get out of it."

Seriously? _Seriously?_

I gape at him. Surely he's not serious. But I can tell that he is. "He stood up for me," I say, completely in disbelief.

Al glances away, but then he shrugs. "I don't care how he gets in trouble, as long as he does."

"I'm going to be in trouble, too, when my parents find out tomorrow! Are you happy about _that, _too?"

"No, of course not," Al says, rolling his eyes. "But you're not a gigantic bastard like James is, either."

"He was taking up for me!" I repeat, still in disbelief. "He's not a gigantic bastard!"

Al kind of glares at me, and I really can't believe I'm even having this conversation. "So, what? Are you on his side now?"

I'm pretty sure my jaw is literally on the floor. "Why do I have to pick sides?" I snap. "I'm not five years old, I'm not in your stupid little fight."

"It's not stupid," he snaps back. "You know what he did to me!"

"And I know what you did to him! So now you're even. So leave me out of it!"

"I can't believe you," he says, shaking his head in shock. "He takes up for you against some duckweed _one time, _and suddenly you're his best friend?"

"Don't you even _care _what Maddox said about my mother?" I demand, and I can feel my face heating up as I grow more and more angry.

"Of course I do, but that's got nothing to do with this."

"It's got everything to do with this," I sneer. I've never wanted to punch him as much as I do right now, but I don't figure I should attempt two fights in one night. "I'm glad you care so much."

"Oh, stop being so dramatic." He rolls his eyes again, and I literally have to twist my fingers to keep them from ripping his glasses off his face and hitting him.

"You know what?" I ask bitingly. "I'm glad to see just what your _real _concerns are. I'm glad to know where your loyalties lie."

Al gapes at me. "And I'm glad to know where _yours _lie!"

"Get out of my way," I snap, purposely slamming into him as I shove past him.

"You don't have to be a bitch to me just because you're mad at yourself," he says hatefully to my back.

I turn around without thinking and shove him so hard that he falls back against the desk. "Don't call me a bitch." He straightens up and shoves me back. I physically restrain myself from doing anything else. Instead, I just glare at him and say, "Why don't you go down and find your daddy? You're the only one he likes because you're the only one who too much of a pansy to stand up to him."

And without another word, I stomp up the stairs to the girls' dormitory.

What the _hell_ just happened?

--

A/N: Ahhh, so now I've really screwed them up! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing the last chapter. I hope you liked this one as well!


	19. Hugo, the Slightly Less Dramatic One

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 19

**HUGO WEASLEY, THE SLIGHTLY LESS DRAMATIC ONE**

--

The whole world has turned upside down in one weekend.

Rose and Al are fighting. James is pissed off at the entire _world. _Both he and Rose are on the verge of expulsion. And to top everything off, my mother is running for Minister of Magic.

The most major of all this is the fact that Rose and Al are arguing, and by arguing, I mean not speaking. And this is major because they've _never _fought like that before. They've had little spats and gotten into arguments before, but never in their whole entire lives have they ever had a _real _fight so bad that they stopped speaking to each other. I don't even know exactly what happened. Rose says it's because Al is a selfish prick who doesn't give a damn that people are saying awful things about our mum. Al says nothing, except that Rose is a liar. They haven't spoken since Thursday, and now it's Sunday. They haven't gone that long without speaking since they both learned to talk. Every time they see each other, they just shoot hateful glares in the other's direction.

Uncle Harry left yesterday. I guess he and James must _really _be hacked off with each other because he didn't even stay for that afternoon's Quidditch match against Hufflepuff (Gryffindor won by sixty, but James didn't even seem pleased). He wasn't too friendly to any of us when he said goodbye, and I'm pretty sure he was very glad to be out of here.

Unfortunately, Uncle Harry's leaving just made room for my dad's arrival. Now normally I wouldn't phrase this as unfortunately because I actually like my dad quite a bit. _However, _Dad is very likely going to kill Rose, and I don't really fancy losing a sister at this young age. He's supposed to be in Hogsmeade, and we're supposed to meet him there at one. Well, actually _Rose _is supposed to meet him, but he said he wanted to talk to me, too, and I guess he got it worked out. On one hand, I'm sort of excited to get out of here for a couple of hours, but on the other hand, I've never witnessed a murder before, and I sort of think thirteen is too young to see such things.

I don't actually know where Rose is at the moment. It's nearly twenty till, and it'll _easily _take us that long to get down there. The last thing she should want right now is to be late and potentially make him even angrier than he already is. But Rose has never exactly made a habit of making things easier for herself. In fact, if there were an award for purposely making your own life difficult, my sister would probably have a lock on it straight from the start.

"Aren't you supposed to meet your dad soon?" Lily gives me a side-glance as she plans her next move in the chess match she's currently playing with Amanda.

"I've got to wait on Rose," I look toward the girls' stairway, but I don't see anyone coming down. A loud groan draws my eyes back to the chessboard where Lily's Rook is giving her the evil eye as she commands him to move.

"Don't do that!" I say quickly. "You'll open your Queen right up." The Rook nods at me authoritatively, and Amanda lets out a sort of indignant gasp.

"You can't _cheat!" _she says, looking from Lily to me and back again.

But Lily doesn't pay her any attention and directs her Castle to move instead. Amanda glares at both of us, but I don't really give it too much thought. Rose has finally come downstairs, and I have to wonder where she gets the idea that even _half _of the things she does are good ideas. Right now, she's dressed in a way that's definitely not going to make my dad think she's some sweet and innocent little girl. Her skirt is entirely _too _short, and her jumper looks like something she probably fit three years ago. It's like she's just _trying _to get in more trouble.

"Are you ready?" she says to me, and she rolls her eyes at Lily who is looking on smugly, probably thinking exactly the same thing I am but in a much meaner way.

I just nod and get up to follow her out of the Common Room. She doesn't speak to me as we walk down the stairs toward the main part of the castle. I actually feel rather uncomfortable because quite a few boys are practically snapping their necks to look at her nearly completely exposed legs. I guess she doesn't realize that it's November and that it's bloody _cold _outside. But then again, maybe she does b/c she certainly remembered her scarf and gloves. She's so odd sometimes…

When we make it outside, the gush of freezing wind that smacks us seems to shake her just a bit, and I actually see her shiver. Deciding to take the bait, I speak up for the first time since we left Gryffindor. "Why didn't you wear something warm?"

Rose looks at me sort of pityingly, like I'm some sort of sad pathetic animal or something. The wind is whipping her hair all around her face, and she pushes some of her curls back with her hands. "Because warm clothing doesn't get you noticed," she says rather pointedly.

I have no idea what she's up to, but I can only imagine that she has some sort of master plan. "We're going to see Dad…" I point out, wondering why she needs to be noticed by her own father.

Rose rolls her eyes. "You never know who else is going be around. It _is _Hogsmeade," she says briskly.

I don't know what this means. I don't know who she thinks is going to be frequenting Hogsmeade on a Sunday afternoon, certainly no one under the age of thirty. But again, I don't understand her, and I don't pretend to.

She's absolutely _shivering _by the time we get to the Three Broomsticks, but she shakes her hair out and draws in a quick breath, sort of like she's steadying herself or something before she opens the door and steps inside. I guess she refuses to let on that she's that cold.

I haven't been to the Three Broomsticks too many times. This is the first year I've been allowed at Hogsmeade during school, and we've only had one weekend so far. The only other times I've been here were the few times Dad's dragged me here to help out with inventory or something in the Hogsmeade branch of WWW. However, I can say without any sort of hesitation that this is, by far, the _emptiest _I've ever seen this bar. There are only three people at the bar and only two occupied tables- one with two old bearded men and one with my dad. He looks up when we enter and waves us over. Rose goes confidently with her head held high and a little twist in her step. I follow along behind her, very aware of every eye in the bar on us.

Dad stands up when reach his table, and he hugs us both. Rose doesn't seem too interested in it, and she sort of just leans in absently before climbing up onto her barstool and crossing her legs sideways in the chair. Dad looks at her as he takes his own seat. Finally, he doesn't seem able to control himself any longer.

"Did you forget it was nearly winter?"

Rose just lifts one shoulder in response and flips her hair back away from her face. What is she _doing? _Dad, for what it's worth, ignores her antics (at least for the time being) and hands us both menus.

"You didn't eat, did you?"

I shake my head, and Rose says nothing as she scans the choices. Truthfully, Dad doesn't seem like he wants to kill her at all. Surprising, really, since Uncle Harry apparently damn near threatened both her and James within an inch of their lives. But Dad has always had a much more laidback sort of approach to things like attempting murder on children, so I guess it's not _that _much of a surprise.

The bartender comes over to take our order. I guess when there's no need for waitresses when there're only eight people in the whole restaurant. He doesn't seem too friendly, but he nods at Dad and looks around at us expectantly.

"You lot ready to order?"

I'm not actually, but Dad goes first and orders the steak and kidney. I suppose that sounds alright, so I order the same. Rose closes her menu and looks up at the barman through heavily lashed eyes before finally ordering a salad (lettuce and tomatoes only, please).

"Oh, and I'll have a shot of Odgen's as well," she adds nonchalantly.

The barman raises his eyebrows at her and then glances at Dad who shakes his head and corrects her. "She means she'll have a butterbeer."

Rose rolls her eyes as the barman leaves us, and she crosses her arms pointedly in Dad's direction.

"I'm not a little girl, Dad," she says snottily.

Dad just raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of the drink he'd already ordered before we arrived. "Oh, trust me, I know," he replies. "Nothing about that outfit says little girl- except for the fact that it looks like you nicked it from Roxanne's closet." Roxanne is our nine year old cousin. "Where did you get that skirt?"

"I got it before school started. Mum bought it for me."

"Oh? Did she keep the rest of it? It looks like you're missing about half of it."

Rose just rolls her eyes again and flips her hair over her shoulder. I personally have a hard time believing that Mum financed the piece of material Rose is currently claiming as a skirt, but I guess I shouldn't be _too _surprised. She _does _let Rose get away with wearing a lot of things most people wouldn't expect she'd be okay with. I guess she "gets it" a lot more than Rose gives her credit for, but, at the same time, I can't imagine that my mother herself would have ever worn _half _the things she lets Rose wear.

"Dad, did you see the Cannons won yesterday?" I ask, changing the subject briskly so that Rose doesn't have a chance to get herself into trouble.

This, of course, works spectacularly, as Dad loves nothing more in the world than talking about Quidditch and especially the Cannons. Them winning is not a very common occurrence, so when it _does _happen, it never fails to put Dad in a great mood.

"Of course I did!" he says happily. "Minchin scored ninety just by himself!"

"And Gryffindor won yesterday, too," I tell him. "That's two out of two!"

"That's great! Have any scouts come out to look at James?"

"I don't think so. Not yet anyway. He didn't really play good yesterday anyway," I say, shrugging.

"He played just fine!" Rose jumps in, and she kind of glares at me a little bit. Rose doesn't particularly enjoy Quidditch too much, so for her to take the initiative to join a conversation about it really means something. What means even more, of course, is the fact that she is (sort of) defending James… Dad seems to think this is odd, too, but he doesn't say anything. He just kind of raises his eyebrows a bit and glances at me. Rose follows this exchange and grows increasingly huffy.

"Didn't you come here to yell at me or something?" she snaps, crossing her arms once again and looking at Dad.

He doesn't really seem too interested in that, though, and he just shakes his head and takes another drink from his glass at the same time that two bottles of Butterbeer land on our table after floating through the air to Rose and me. "I didn't plan on yelling at you, no. Why? Do you want me to?"

Rose raises a single eyebrow. This drives me insane (mostly because I can't do it, no matter how hard I try), so Rose makes a habit of doing it as often as possible. "I punched a boy," she says flatly. "Several times."

"And why did you do that?"

I wonder if this is some sort of trick question, reverse psychology or something… This doesn't seem right at all.

Rose seems shocked as well, and her eyes go wide as she slowly and pointedly says, "Because he called my mother a Mudblood. _And _because I'm a fuck up," she adds, her eyes going impossibly wider as she sets both of her hands on the table.

"And did you win?"

_What?! _Okay, this is _definitely _not how I expected things to go. Rose seems shocked as well. And maybe even a little angry.

"Did I win the fight?" she asks, and she sounds like she can't believe her own ears. When Dad nods, she just shakes her head in disbelief and says, "He didn't hit me back because I'm a girl. And boys aren't supposed to hit girls. It makes them less of a man apparently. So I won by default. And then James kicked his arse. And they're allowed to actually fight. Because they both have dicks. But not me because I don't have one. Because I'm a girl. So yes, to answer your question, I won."

She says all of this very deliberately, and she looks my dad straight in the face the entire time. I know she is trying to get a reaction out of him, but he barely seems fazed at all. Instead, he just nods a little and says, "Good."

Rose narrows her eyes suspiciously and uncrosses her arms. "And you aren't angry that I got in a fight and could have been expelled?"

The food arrives, and three plates settle themselves in front of us. Rose's looks more than a bit sad, all that lettuce and nothing else to accompany it… She looks longingly at my pie for a brief moment before turning her attention back to Dad who continues talking as he digs into his lunch.

"I can't be mad at you for doing something I did a thousand times," he explains. "I _wish_ you had more self-control than that, but I can't exactly fault you for it considering it's probably my fault. Besides, the little shit deserved it."

The way Rose is eyeing him is exactly the way I feel. I can't believe he's _serious. _Rose seems determined to get a rise out of him, though, so she keeps right on going.

"Uncle Harry sure didn't feel that way."

"That's because Harry overreacts to pretty much everything," Dad says, his mouth full of steak. He takes a swig from his drink and wipes his mouth. "It's just a fight. No one died. And like I said, the little bastard deserved to get his arse beat."

"Well, maybe you should tell James that," Rose says, poking at her plate of lettuce. "His dad doesn't share that opinion."

"He and Harry're really on the outs over it, huh?"

Rose nods. "Yeah. He was so _mean _to James about it. And all James was doing was standing up for me."

"And that was good of him to stand up for you," Dad says back immediately. "That really means something, to have someone willing to jump to your defense so easily. You should be really grateful to him." Rose frowns a bit, and I know she physically can't make herself say that she's grateful to him but that she probably feels it deep (_very _deep) inside of her. Dad doesn't harp on it, though, he just goes on and says, "Harry's just stressed about some stuff. It probably just got taken out on James."

"It _always _gets taken out on James," I speak up for the first time in awhile.

Dad glances at me and chews his food quietly for a second before swallowing and sighing. "They're just really different, James and Harry. I know it probably seems like he's too hard on him sometimes, but he doesn't mean to be… I'll talk to him."

"To Uncle Harry?"

"To James."

"He was really pissed off about what that prick said about Mum, too," Rose interjects, and it's funny because it's really obvious that she's no longer attempting to put on an act or get a rise out of Dad.

Dad's oblivious anyway… "Well, he _should _be," he grunts out. "That's about the most offensive thing you can call a person, isn't it? Who was it anyway? Some little prat called Malfoy?" Dad says the last part kind of fleetingly and almost to himself. It's obvious, to me at least, that he isn't expecting anything from it- not a confirming answer _or _Rose's reaction.

"Why the hell would you say _that_?" she snaps.

Dad looks at her oddly, and so do I. I don't know why she seems so offended suddenly. Dad just tilts his head a bit, but she prattles right on.

"Malfoy would never say that! He probably doesn't even know what that word _means. _Why would you even suggest something like that?"

"I was only joking…" Dad says slowly. "I didn't know you were so defensive about it… And anyway, I only said it because it was his favorite insult when we were in school."

"When _who _was in school?"

"Me… and your mum… and Malfoy…"

Rose looks confused for just a second before she realizes what he's talking about. I'm still pretty lost, so I just watch the exchange silently. "Oh, you mean his dad," she says, nodding her own confirmation to herself.

"Huh?" Dad wrinkles his forehead in his own confusion.

"Scorpius's dad," she says, rolling her eyes as if she's wondering how it's possible that he's that thick.

"Well, obviously," Dad says with his own roll of the eyes.

Rose looks rather bothered, though, and she twists around uncomfortably before putting her fork down. "He really used to say that?" she asks, and her voice is a little quieter. "About Mum?"

"Yeah… He was pretty much the biggest arsehole on the face of the planet." Dad's eyes are narrowed just a bit, and he's studying Rose in a way as if he's trying to see something that's not there. "But sorry, I didn't realize you were so friendly with his spawn."

"I'm not," Rose shoots back immediately, sitting up much straighter in her chair and throwing her hair over her shoulder. "I just know him from class. I'm not _friends _with him or anything." She says all of that pretty quickly, which is generally a very obvious sign that she's fabricating at least a bit of the truth. Dad knows this, too, of course, and he watches her silently for another minute or so before changing the subject.

"_Anyway, _I really want to talk to you two about the whole Minister of Magic thing."

Rose gets her ground back immediately and snottily replies, "Oh, we prefer to call it the whole Our Lives Are Being Ruined thing." Honestly, I don't prefer to call it that because I can think of a whole lot of other worse things than that… but obviously I'm not going to say that to Rose.

"If you can tone your dramatics down just about two notches, that would be _excellent," _Dad shoots back. Rose pulls a face but shuts up nonetheless. "Now I know we probably could have told you in a better way than in a letter, but your mum had to make her announcement to the press, and we didn't want you finding out in the paper before you heard it from us."

"Can we just skip to the part where you tell us _why _anyone thinks this is a good idea?" Rose is obviously done with her lettuce because she pushes her plate away as she leans back in her seat.

"The reason why people think this is a good idea, _Rose," _he says testily, "is because your mother is one of the few people in this whole world who actually has the brainpower to make the changes this county needs. Not like the rest of the idiots throwing their names out there who can spew out a load of crap and plenty of ideas but have no idea how to get any of them accomplished."

"But do the rest of those idiots have three kids? Two _teenagers? _Dad, don't you think we're singled out enough as it is? Now you want to throw _this _on top of everything _else _we have to listen to everyday because of who our parents are?"

"So you think your own personal needs should be put ahead of the whole world's?"

"When it comes to my own _mother, _then yes!" She shakes her head and keeps right on going. "And what about Landon? Mum'll _never _be around if she's Minister! What's he supposed to do?"

I realize that I haven't really considered the impact that this prospective position would have on my brother. He's not even three years old yet, and if Mum is the Minister then there's absolutely no way he'll ever have a chance at a normal life. Not to mention, of course, the effect it'll have on Rose and me that I haven't even considered before. Our whole lives are going to turn upside down. Things are going to be a million times harder than they are now, and they're not exactly _easy _as it is.

"Landon'll be just fine," Dad answers calmly. "Your mum'll be around plenty for him, don't worry."

"But he's going to grow up right in the middle of everything," I protest quickly. "And that's what you always said you _didn't _want for us when we were little."

"Yeah," Dad nods thoughtfully, "that's what we used to think was the best thing… but we've started realizing that maybe raising you _away _from everything might have done more hurt than harm."

I look at Rose, and she looks back. We're thinking the same thing- that this is going to be inevitably bad. I think she realizes that I've suddenly been hit by all the revelations of everything that's going to happen. Dad clears his throat and draws the attention back to himself.

"Look, this is really important to your mum. And it's important to me, too. And we'd really appreciate it if you two would get on board and support this. She's worried sick about the way you're reacting, and it would really mean a lot if she knew that you were okay with it."

Anyone who's ever said my dad is stupid is really, really wrong. He may not be as book smart as my mum or my sister, but he's _definitely _a master strategist. He knows _exactly _what to say to set the guilt into place.

So why I reluctantly nod my head and say I'm okay with it, I can't help but feel a bit bad for lying. Because all of a sudden, I'm not fine with it at all…

--

A/N: Thanks for reading, please review!


	20. James, the New king of Angst

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 20

**JAMES, THE NEW KING OF ANGST**

--

I failed my Charms exam.

_Failed _it. I literally got a 22 percent on it. Out of 100 percent. _Failed _it.

Professor Atria held me after class and said she was very disappointed because she knows how much potential I have and just feels like I'm wasting it. She gave me a very sad look and said, "I have to write your parents about this…"

Like I fucking care.

Clearly she doesn't know me that well, or else she wouldn't have bothered even trying to scare some studying into me by sending the grade home. I don't care. Is she _serious? _I've done so many worse things in my life than fail a stupid test. My parents probably won't even blink at it. And if they _do, _they'll just get mad and yell like they always do. Like I really fucking care about _that, _either.

I don't give a damn what my parents think about anything right at the moment, and I _really _don't care if they think I should be making stellar grades just to impress them. I don't need Charms, are you joking? When am I _ever _going to need to make a tea kettle sprout legs and tap dance? Oh, that's right. _Never. _The whole bloody subject is stupid, just like 99 percent of the shit they teach us at this stupid school.

I _do _use Charms for one thing, though… I take my wand and perform a perfect Vanishing Spell on the copy of the exam Atria gave to me. It disappears into thin air. And you know what they say… Out of sight, out of mind.

"What're you doing, Potter? Vanishing the evidence of all your wrong-doing?" Kate Milton flashes me a quick grin as she drops into the seat beside me at the Gryffindor table.

"Yeah, my Charms exam," I answer, turning my attention fully to her. "All 22 percent of it."

Kate laughs and rolls her eyes. "Oh, you're a smart one…"

"We can't all be Ravenclaws," I reply coyly.

Kate just wrinkles her nose a little bit and says, "Yeah, I know. If everyone was as smart as us, there'd be no one to make fun of and belittle."

"That really hurts my feelings."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she sticks out her lower lip, "I didn't realize you were so sensitive!" She giggles and cuts the charade before glancing at all the empty seats around me. "Why're you all alone?"

"Because I just got back in from practice, and I guess everyone's already finished." I glance down the table, which is scattered with random people, none of them too particularly interesting. They're all either much younger or members of my team. And since my entire team pretty much hates my guts, they don't exactly jump at the chance to eat dinner with me.

Kate just nods, though, and says, "Yeah, you do smell a bit like sweaty boy."

I raise my eyebrows at her. "You _like _the way sweaty boys smell."

But Kate laughs. "Oh, I'm sure that's something you imagine in your head to be true. But trust me, just because the smell of sweaty girl might remind you of sex, that doesn't mean the opposite is true. Sweaty boy just reminds us of dirt and grease and poor hygiene and someone who _really _needs a shower."

I lean closer to her on purpose. "You don't have to deny it."

Kate coughs in a really over-dramatic way and shoves me away. "_Gross." _She looks down the table again. "Why aren't you sitting with your Quidditch mates? Then you can all stink together."

I sigh loudly and dramatically. "Because they hate me. Just like everyone else in the world."

Kate gives me another puppy dog look and shoulder bumps me. "Oh, poor little rich boy," she says sarcastically. "I _know _you've got _so _many problems…" Oh, if she _only_ knew… "It must be _so _hard to have everything in the world."

"Everything in the world, huh?" I raise my eyebrows. "I guess I wouldn't know."

"Oh, there's no need to be modest with _me_, James. I've seen you naked."

"Yeah, you and everyone else."

"So you admit to being a filthy whore?" She looks at me with slightly pursed lips and an expectant sort of face. I just shrug. "You're a pig."

"And yet, you still always show up…"

Kate smirks and carries on. "Your birthday's soon."

"It is."

"Are you having a party?"

Of course, I'm having a party. I don't let any excuse for a good party go by, and my eighteenth birthday, while not _quite _as important as my seventeenth, is still quite the event. So yes, obviously there will be a party. I say as much to Kate.

"Good," she replies. "Because there's a rumor going 'round that Ellie Amblington has an entire _case _of firewhiskey hidden in her trunk. And by rumor, of course, I mean that she showed it to me."

"But you're a Prefect," I say, pretending to be scandalized.

"And yet, I still hang around with the likes of _you."_

"You just use me for my body."

Kate snorts and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, _right."_

We both laugh. Kate is the type of girl that you can have a laugh with, mostly because she's more like a mate but, you know, with girl parts. And nice girl parts at that. _Focus, Potter._

I change the subject, trying to clear my head of _those _sorts of thoughts. After all, we're in the Great Hall, and those sorts of thoughts are just not appropriate for the dinner table. "_Anyway, _if the rumor about Ellie is true… then you should definitely make sure she shows up to my birthday."

"Make sure we get an invite," she shoots back.

"Oh, you're always invited, Darling," I say, copying her earlier sarcasm.

Kate tries to look serious but can't make it. She laughs in disbelief and shakes her head. "Please don't _ever_ say that again."

She rolls her eyes as she stands up, and I at least give it a shot. "Don't you want to go find a broom closet or something?" No harm in getting straight to it.

Kate, though, apparently isn't up for it. "You smell like my little brother's dirty socks," she says seriously.

"Well, you could give me the password to the Prefect's bathroom, and we could go have a shower…"

"_Or," _she interrupts, "you could take your sweaty arse up to Gryffindor Tower, and you and your right hand could have a shower and kill two birds with one stone."

"I don't understand why people want to kill any birds at all," I reply, completely ignoring her wanking suggestion. "I mean, out of all that animals in the world, birds are quite harmless, aren't they?"

"You're such an idiot." She kicks my shin before smiling sweetly and bouncing away. Damn her.

Later that night, after I've taken Kate's suggestion and had a shower, I find myself in the Common Room at least giving my History homework an attempt. It's annoying, of course, because I'm very near the end of my Hogwarts career, so the "history" we're studying this year is really just about twenty-something years old. And that means, of course, that I'm currently supposed to be reading a chapter on some crap that my dad did in the Department of Mysteries when he was… fourteen? Fifteen maybe. I don't know, I don't pay attention. And everything I'm reading is blurring in front of my eyes because I just don't bloody care to tell the truth.

After reading the same sentence about twelve times, I finally give up and start doodling ideas for Quidditch plays on the corner of my text. I don't even notice any visitors until a happy sort of voice pipes up eagerly with, "Hey, James!"

It's Louis. He's already dressed in his pajamas, and he looks overly-excited about something.

"Look what my dad sent me!" he says eagerly, brandishing a book at me. I look at the title, _101 Greatest Quidditch Moments. _There's a picture of Josef Wronski on the cover, zooming straight down endlessly. Louis looks so excited about his new book that I can't even make any sort of joke at him.

Instead, I just say, "That's really cool," with as much enthusiasm as I can muster.

"I know! And look what it does!" Louis sets the book down on the table and opens it. To my surprise (and his great amusement), the inside isn't just regular pages. It opens up to reveal a miniature Quidditch pitch, raised up over the pages. The title in the upper corner states the Number One Quidditch Moment as the original Wronski Feint, and I'm surprised to see a mini-Wronski zooming round on his broomstick with the rest of his team as they fight for a win. The match carries on in real time, and it's actually pretty cool to watch it like this. Wronski turns his broom straight downward and heads full-speed for the grass, the opposing Seeker right on his tail. Then, of course, Wronski changes direction and pulls his broom straight up just as the other Seeker smashes into the ground unwittingly.

"Wow, Louis, that _is _pretty sweet," I say honestly.

Louis just nods eagerly, his blonde hair bouncing up and down with his head. "So if you ever want to look at it for ideas, you can," he carries on. "For Quidditch plays, you know." I wonder if he's seen the doodles all over my textbook.

"Thanks, mate."

Louis grins. I'm glad that at least _one _member of my family still appears to like me. Even if it _is _an eleven year old kid. Louis has been having a bit of a shit time lately, what between starting school and trying to make friends and get used to everything and, of course, his new niece (who I'm _quite _sure is taking up all of his family's time). So it's not really surprising to see how excited he gets over his dad sending him something, even if it _is _a book.

I wish I got that excited about _anything _my dad did.

"You're so lucky, you get to learn about cool stuff." Louis has climbed onto his knees in the chair beside me and is leaning over my textbook. Apparently, he _has _noticed the doodles, though now he's reading the actual text. "All we get to study right now is some Goblin Revolt that happened in like 1300 or something."

"Well, here," I push the book toward him. "If you're interested, go ahead and read it. I'm sure your parents never told you about it." I can't help the hint of bitterness that tinges my voice. I wish it wasn't there, though, because it probably makes it sound like I give a shit about anything my parents did- past or present. And I definitely do not.

"Oh, I already know about this," Louis says, glancing over the page. "This is when Sirius Black died."

"Huh?" I take the book back and start flipping the pages. And sure enough, about four pages in, it talks about Sirius Black and how he wasn't exonerated until over two years after his death. How the hell does _Louis _know more about this shit than I do? I'm freaking _named _for the man, for fuck's sake!

"Yeah," Louis goes on. "You know Teddy's gran? Her sister is the one who killed him. And then she killed Teddy's mum, too."

"How do you know?" I don't even look up as I scan the pages and read the details of Sirius Black's death.

"My dad told me that story a long time ago." He shrugs like it's nothing.

Now to say that I'm a little angry would be bit of an understatement. I'm more than a little angry. Why the hell does my eleven year old cousin know more about this shit than I do? Oh, yeah, because my parents are arseholes who don't tell us _anything._

Louis says something about going up to bed, and I barely raise a hand in acknowledgement as I continue scanning the pages of the history book. I find myself getting angrier and angrier that I don't know _any _of this stuff. And to make matters even worse, my mum was there, too- that night in the Department of Mysteries, I mean. Not to mention, of course, my aunt and uncle and even Luna and Neville. And what do I know about it? Nothing. And yet, my dad has the _nerve _to bitch at us about not appreciating anything that they did for us. As if we _even _know.

I hate my parents so much sometimes.

I hate this whole fucking charade of being a Potter and being perfect. It's such bullshit. People think my parents are such saints, but they don't even know them. They don't know how unfair they are and how hateful they can be. And I don't care what my dad says, he can't convince me that he gives two shits about what happens to me or goes on in my life. The only time he cares is when it makes him look bad, and then he wants to get all super hard arsehole. Well, that's just fine because, just like I told him, he won't have to worry about me anymore after this year is up. I'll be out of his house and out of his way for good, and then he won't have to ever even _pretend_ to care anymore.

_God_, I sound like Rose.

But I can't help it. It's true. Rose has no idea how lucky she is. She thinks her parents are _so _bad when they're not really bad at all. They genuinely give a shit about her and keep up with things that she does. They show an actual _interest _in her life. And her dad is _infinitely _cooler than mine. I guess I should be thankful that at least I have decent godparents if nothing else. Her dad wrote me a pretty long letter telling me not to worry about the fight and saying that it was really noble of me to take up for Rose like that. He also told me about all the times he got himself into trouble after reacting too strongly to different situations. And he even told me some story about his wand backfiring and causing him to cough up slugs after the first time somebody called Aunt Hermione a Mudblood. He didn't _once _tell me that I was an ungrateful, entitled, selfish little brat who doesn't appreciate anything that anyone's ever done for me.

I don't know where my dad even gets off trying to lecture me about _anything. _He's such a bloody hypocrite.

My mum is just as bad. She always says the same sorts of things that Dad does. She acts as if she's so perfect when we all know that she has a ridiculous temper that's so easily lost she may as well have never had it in the first place. She can't stand me, either, and I'm sure I'm as much of a disappointment to her as I am to my father.

And don't even get me started on my brother.

_That _little prick is going to get what's coming to him, and he's going to get it _bad, _too. Little fuckwit. I can't stand him and his stupid superiority complex shit. He's such a little arsehole, and I wish we weren't even related, much less siblings. We've never particularly gotten along, but he's never been _this _bad before. He constantly tries to catch me doing shit so that he can write it up and get me in trouble over it. Not to mention, of course, that he's got our parents wrapped around his finger so tightly that they might never come unwound no matter _what _he does. I can only take pleasure, of course, in the fact that he's lost his truest ally. Rose has completely turned her back on him, and they aren't even speaking. I don't even know what happened, mostly because I don't speak to either of them. I don't really care, either, as long as Al gets shit on. I couldn't give two craps about the details.

Without thinking, I slam the history book closed and shove it across the table away from me. I grab a roll of parchment and start scribbling away rapidly at a letter. The words seem to be flying off my quill without me even having to think about them. I realize all too easily that these are things I've wanted to say for a really long time.

_Mum and Dad,_

_I'm writing this when I should be reading for History of Magic. We're studying the time Sirius Black died at the Ministry of Magic. I'm sure you remember it clearly, seeing as how you were both there. I don't know about any of it, of course, because neither one of you have ever bothered to tell me anything about it. So Dad, I hope you're happy that I'm learning about it elsewhere so that I can "appreciate" everything that people did for me._

_But you know what? I'm sick of you always trying to make me feel guilty for shit that I had nothing to do with and don't even know about. That's thanks to you, of course- that I don't know anything about it. But I know you still expect me to appreciate it and lick dog shit off of people's boots about it. So sorry that sometimes I'm a little bastard who doesn't "appreciate" all of it._

_And you know what else? Fuck you. Fuck both of you for always acting like you're both some sort of goddamn saints who the rest of the world should worship. Maybe the rest of the world DOES worship you, but that's because they don't know you and they don't know what you're really like. I hate the way you both act so perfect whenever we're out in public and how you smile for cameras and act like we're one big happy family when you both know it's bullshit. Our whole family is fucked up, and you know it. I hate Al, you both hate me, Lily hates the world. _

_And speaking of Al, maybe you should wake up and realize that he's not as perfect as you'd like to think he is. He does just as much shit as I do, but just because he doesn't own up to it, you both think he's some sort of fucking saint. Well, I guess that shouldn't surprise me since he's just like the pair of you. God, I really fucking hate being part of this family, and sometimes I wish I'd never been born. Just so I wouldn't have to live my whole life being compared to Harry fucking Potter._

_I don't give a shit about Harry fucking Potter. I don't want to be Harry fucking Potter, and sometimes I wish Harry fucking Potter would drop off the face of the fucking planet. So hate me if you want to. I no longer give a shit. I'm over this, and when I'm out of school, you'll never have to worry about me disrupting your stupid perfect family anymore because I'll be done with you people forever. And I can't wait._

_So fuck you. Fuck you both. And fuck this whole family._

_Your eldest son,  
James_

I read over the letter and then read it over again. I'm surprised that it came so easily. The words flew onto the paper in a way that shows just how long I've been wanting to say them. This letter says everything I've ever wanted to say to the two people I call parents.

It's perfect.

And so, naturally, I read it a few more times, calming myself down as the words are finally out there right in front of me. It makes things so much better to just finally get them out.

And then, as easily as I wrote the words, I tear them up and Vanish them with a quick spell.

I'm not about to let anyone else in on _that._

A/N: So… thanks for reading, please review! The next couple of chapters are going to get very interesting…


	21. Rose, Intoxication

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 21

**ROSE, INTOXICATION**

--

The middle of December means two things.

One, school is nearly done for the first term. Christmas is nearly here, and we all get to go home for three glorious weeks of family fun… I'm being completely sarcastic, of course. Personally, I can't think of anything I'd rather do _less _than go home for three weeks. I'd stay at Hogwarts for break, but my parents won't let me. They've never let me. No, I have to go home and spend time with my family because that's what's important in life.

Yay.

The only good part about going home is that I'll get to see Landon. He's the only person I miss while I'm away at school. It's sad because every time I leave and come back, he's always grown about a foot. Dad said he's starting to talk a lot more, too, which I'm sure is adorable. I can't wait to listen to him and hear everything that he has to say.

Of course, that means I'll have to listen to my parents as well and hear everything that _they _have to say.

We're not on perfect terms at the moment, despite the fact that Dad tried to guilt Hugo and me into being okay with Mum's whole campaign thing. We both still agree that it's going to turn out very badly and that they're definitely trying to ruin our lives. Well, okay, to be fair, I had to convince Hugo of all those things. But now he sees them and shares the same opinion.

The second thing that the middle of December signifies is, of course, James's birthday.

Now I don't say that like it's some huge deal that really means a lot to _me _or anything, but there's no denying that his birthday parties are always pretty much fabulous. Yes, he's a self-centered prick, but he does at least know how to throw a good party. Not that I generally make a habit of attending them, of course, as James doesn't particularly care for me. However, seeing as how I'm now at war with Albus Potter, going to his older brother's (and sworn enemy's) party seems a whole lot more appealing than it normally does.

I still don't have many friends, as most of them have turned their back on me at some point this year, siding either with Elisabeth or with David or with Al… or, you know, any of the other enemies I've managed to make this year. So really, the only person I really speak to anymore is Meghan. She has still stuck by me, though she refuses to be mad at any of the other people I'm fighting with (besides David, of course, but she's been mad at him since way before our whole thing happened…). But it's okay, I guess. At least she talks to me and sits with me in class and at dinner so I don't have to look like completely and totally lame.

She's going to the party with me. She's very excited, as she's never been before. The parties always take place in the Common Room, and Neville always manages to overlook the situations on the nights when there's something planned. As long as everything's kept within reason, of course. I'm sure he'd have no problem putting a stop to things if it got out of control or too loud or anything like that. But generally, he just leaves it alone and lets everyone have fun.

James throws the best parties in the entire school, at least that's what I hear. And he always invites people from all the different Houses, not just Gryffindor. Of course, he doesn't invite _everyone, _and he's pretty good at getting rid of the people he doesn't want there. But even though James and I tend to fight a bit… well, he's not going to kick me out of his party. Though he might kick his little brother out… not that Al would have the balls to show up anyway. He's too busy being a little brown-noser and sucking up to all the professors and being a perfect little Prefect to ever try to crash a party where people might actually be having fun.

"Does this look okay?" Meghan's standing in front of our mirror examining her outfit for probably the thirtieth time. She looks just fine, and I tell her so.

"Who are you trying to impress anyway?"

"No one," she says, turning away from the mirror and fiddling with her hair. "I just don't want to look like an idiot."

"Everyone will be way too drunk to notice if anyone's looking like an idiot," I tell her pointedly before pulling a bottle of Ogden's out of my trunk and holding it up triumphantly. I nicked it from my house before school started, and I've been saving it for a special occasion. This seems as good as any.

Meghan brightens up and conjures us two shot glasses. I'm a little shocked at how easily she does this, as she isn't the _brightest _person in our class when it comes to Charms. Still, though, I take them from her and fill them both up with the dark liquid before setting the bottle down on the edge of the night table.

We do a traditional three count and the throw the shots back like pros. Of course, though, we are_ not _pros. And it takes us each about two seconds to start gagging and coughing as the whiskey burns down our throats with a disgusting taste. It's not that we've never had the stuff before, but we don't particularly make habits of drinking it. A taste here and sip there don't really do a lot to prepare you for the sting it lays on your throat.

"Oh, gross," Meg chokes out, gasping and spitting a bit in an obvious attempt to rid herself of the taste.

"A couple more, and we won't be able to taste it," I tell her, remembering something I heard Victoire tell Dominique about five years ago when they were sneaking shots at the Burrow before Christmas dinner.

"I hope you're right," Meghan says, her face contorted with disgust. She still looks as though she might choke. I guess I couldn't blame her if she does. It _is _rather nasty.

We decide to test the theory and do, indeed, take a couple more shots. It's not entirely true that I can no longer taste it, but it does get a bit easier each time. After three quick shots each, we decide to head downstairs. The noise is ridiculous, and I don't know how it hasn't _already _been broken up. The Common Room is as crowded as it is after a Gryffindor Quidditch win, but there's a very different set of people here now than the one that gathers for the Quidditch victories. For one thing, all of the younger students have disappeared from the Common Room, banished to their rooms by the older students. The lack of First, Second, and Third Years is made up for by the visiting people from other Houses. I glance around, trying to spot someone I know, but it's too crowded to really find anyone. Instead, I grab Meghan's hand, and we hold onto each other tightly, unwilling to get separated.

We squeeze our way through the crowd, and Meghan clutches the firewhiskey bottle tightly in her free hand. I see Elisabeth and Susannah chatting with Justin and a couple of other Slytherins, and I briefly wish that I could go up and join them. The truth is that I really do miss them, especially Elisabeth. She's always been my closest girlfriend, ever since we were First Years. Meghan's great, but I miss Elisabeth. I even miss Susie and all of her obsessive nonsense. Still, though, I made that bed, so now I guess I have to lie in it…

We finally find a small clearing, and we stop to take another shot of the whiskey. Some loud song by Tommy and the Tiddlywinks is blaring from invisible speakers. I hate that band and all of their music, but at least with the firewhiskey starting to take effect, I don't feel like clawing my eyeballs out.

"That bottle's too big for you!"

I hear someone screaming in my ear, attempting to be heard over Tom and his Tiddles… I turn around and am sort of shocked to see Elliott Winningham smiling at me. Elliott's a Seventh Year and one of James's best mates. He's quite popular and, truthfully, quite cute as well. He looks especially cute tonight with his brown hair all mussed up and messy atop his head.

"That's why two of us are drinking it!" I shout back, motioning between Meghan and myself to make sure he can understand me.

He does, and he laughs (though of course I can't hear it). "Let's go over here!" he says loudly, waving us away from the noise a bit. I don't know where the speakers are, but we seem to have moved away from them some, as the music, while still loud, is no longer deafening.

Elliott shoos some Fourth Years away from a couch and motions for us to sit down. We do, of course, and he sits between us. "Aren't you going to offer to share?" he asks, looking pointedly at the bottle of firewhiskey that Meghan's still holding.

"Why should we?" I shoot back. "What are you going to share with us?"

Elliott looks amused, and he smirks at me. "There you go with that mouth, Weasley."

I just cock my head and shrug my shoulders disinterestedly. Still, though, I conjure up a glass for him and grab the bottle from Meghan, filling all three shot glasses.

With the same silly countdown that people always do with their shots, we turn them up. Finally. I don't really taste it all. A second later, though, I feel _very _dizzy. That's the shit thing about liquor. You don't even know what it's doing while you're throwing back shots, but then all of a sudden, it hits you all at once and knocks you on your arse.

But it feels fabulous.

Meghan seems to be having much the same experience, as she's smiling quite a bit and rather dumbly at that. Elliott seems amused and puts an arm around each of us.

"You girls are way too pretty to be sitting all alone," he tells us. "So it's a good thing I can keep you company."

He takes the bottle again, and this time, instead of pouring himself a shot, he simply drinks straight from the bottle. Well. I guess that's one way to get to it. When he's done, he offers it out to me, and I take it. I guess it doesn't matter if it's poured into a glass or not, it's going to have the same effect either way. I drink from it and then hand it over to Meghan who does the same thing.

We sit there for awhile longer. We talk about stupid shit that doesn't matter to anyone, and we keep drinking and drinking. I know logically that I should stop, but I guess being intoxicated really stops logical thought process from taking effect. I've never been drunk before, not like this. I've been slightly tipsy a couple of times, but I realize about thirty minutes later that I no longer have any control out of anything that comes out of my mouth, nor do I particularly want to.

It's actually quite fun.

Of course, I also realize that I'm about to piss on myself if I don't find a loo, so I announce this to my sofa-mates and tell them that I'll be right back. I stand up- or at least I _think _I stand up- it's more of me raising about six inches off the couch and then falling straight back into the cushions.

I crack up at myself, as do Meghan and Elliott who openly laugh at my inability to get to my feet. Ellliott is a gentleman, though, and he helps me up by pushing me up by the waist and steadying me when I finally reach a vertical position. Whoa. Everything spins around me, and I wonder how the hell this shit works so fast.

I stumble back through the crowd, finding it no easier to stand with lots of people around than it is with just a couple. There's a bathroom off the Common Room, and I sincerely hope no one's in it. The door swings open just as I get to it, and the Guest of Honor emerges, looking much less drunk than I, though still rather intoxicated. His eyes are glazed over slightly red, and he smirks when he sees me. I don't know why until I realize I'm wobbling and lose my balance entirely. James catches me easily and makes sure I don't hit the ground.

"How much have _you _had to drink?" he teases as he grips my shoulders and keeps me upright.

"Way too much, and now I'm going to pee on myself if I can't get my zip undone!" It's true, too, I'm twisting my legs together desperately to keep from losing it right here. And I'm trying to get the button and zip worked out on my jeans, but my fingers don't seem to remember how to work. "Help me!"

James rolls his eyes and glances around to make sure no one is watching before he quickly assists me in getting my jeans undone so that I can now go relieve myself.

"Wait for me!" I say quickly before flying into the bathroom. I make it (just barely), and I have a feeling that now that I've peed once, I'll probably be in here all night… When I'm finished, I go back out to find that James has done exactly as I commanded and has, indeed, waited for me.

"I can't believe how drunk you are," he says, helping me stand upright as I stumble out of the bathroom.

"Me, either," I reply honestly. I can't believe how quickly it happened, either, and I make a mental note to never do shots of firewhiskey again. Or at least not that many… I try to walk, but my feet seem to have forgotten how to walk. "Jamie…" I whine, and he shoots me a look that says not to call him that, but I'm his cousin, so I'll call him whatever I want. I stick out my lower lip and try to look as pitiful as possible. "I'm drunk."

He laughs and says, "So I've noticed."

"You might have to carry me."

"You might have to fall on your face."

I huff up and actually stomp my foot. This isn't a good idea at all because I lose my balance and just barely miss the floor as James grabs me.

"C'mon, Rosie," he says, obviously getting me back for the Jamie thing. He steadies me and wraps a protective arm around my waist to keep me upright. He leads me back to where Meghan and Elliott are still sitting on the sofa.

"Rose!" Meghan says excitedly, and she smiles a ridiculously large smile that lets me know in no uncertain terms that she's probably just as drunk as I am… James shoots Elliott a look, and they share a little smirk before James drops down on one side of Meg and I squeeze in between her and Elliott on the other.

James takes the bottle from Elliott who has apparently claimed it as his own in my absence, and he takes a long swig from it, much longer than I would ever be able to take without puking.

"Your clothes are always so well-ironed here," I say out of nowhere, looking over at James who raises his eyebrows at me as he lowers he bottle. "At home, they're always wrinkled." I have no idea where this came from or why I feel the need to say it out loud…

"That's because we don't have any house-elves at home," he shoots back, passing the bottle across both Meg and me back to Elliott. "Thanks to your mum."

"God, I know," I say, letting out a loud sigh. "She's mental."

"Hey," Meghan says, and she giggles (I have no idea why), "your mum's a very important woman."

"I know, trust me." I roll my eyes and snatch the bottle away. "She's absolutely ridiculous is what she is."

James laughs loudly, and Elliott and Meghan join in a second later, though I'm positive neither of them have any idea what they're laughing at.

"Rose, you hate everyone," Meghan laughs.

I shrug carelessly and take another drink. James reaches over and takes the whiskey away. "You've probably had enough."

"I don't hate everyone," I announce, to no one in particular.

"Yeah, not me, right Rosie?" James teases, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"I only hate you sometimes," I reply. "Like when you fucking call me _Rosie." _He smirks, and I feel oddly sentimental and loving. "But sometimes… sometimes I love you."

"Oh, so you two are besties now, is that it?" Meghan asks, looking between us incredulously.

James and I both erupt into ridiculous laughter.

"Yeah, right!" he says. "She's pissed off her head, and I need blackmail material."

I can't really think of a better explanation, so I just shrug in agreement.

It takes me about two more seconds to realize that Elliott's arm is around me once again and that this time he actually seems to have a plan. I guess I don't care. Somewhere in the back of my head, I remember my pact to swear off boys, but this doesn't really count. There's no harm in having a bit of fun, is there?

I let my head fall back against the cushions of the couch and feel the calming mindlessness of being absolutely oblivious and carefree. Elliott somehow has the bottle of Ogden's back, and he offers it to me after taking his own liberal drink from it. When I start to take it, though, he jerks it back teasingly before holding it out and doing the same thing when I reach for it again.

"That's not nice," I tell him sharply, and I can't help but squeal a tiny bit when tickles me. I snatch the bottle from him and giggle as I accidentally spill a bit of it down my chin.

"You shouldn't waste that shit, it's expensive."

"I didn't buy it, I stole it!" I say matter-of-factly, and I carefully wipe it off my chin. Before I can dry my hand off, though, Elliott grabs it and ever-so-suavely licks my palm. _Licks it!_

"Ew!" I crack up and can't stop laughing. Elliott can't, either, and when he tries to kiss me, the only reason I push him away is to tease him.

Of course, I make the mistake of turning my head away jokingly at exactly the right moment to catch James making his move on Meghan. And Meghan openly falling for it…

And _fuck._

Oh, shit. "_James!" _I say it before I can think of anything else. He pulls away from Meghan's lips just enough to look at me. I stare at him indignantly, not quite believing that even _he _would go _this _far.

He makes no movement, simply says, "He asked for it."

I stare at him in shock. Meghan looks between us, a slightly confused look on her face. She really has no idea…

And then James pulls her even closer and goes straight back to kissing her, effectively distracting her already slightly altered mind from questioning it any further. I don't know what to think. Or what to do. I can't do anything, I guess. _Seriously? _I didn't even think _James _would stoop _that _low. Meg herself, though, seems quite content to be the latest conquest on the James Potter tour, and it almost seems like she's pushing it even further than he is.

Elliott tugs on my elbow, and I realize I've nearly forgotten that he's even here. I look at him, and I can tell that I'm about to turn into his own latest conquest. Suddenly, I feel really disgusting.

"I have to pee," I say quietly, standing up and wobbling against my own will. The fun obliviousness of being happily drunk is gone, and now I just feel ill. Elliott starts to get up and go with me (I'm sure to make sure I get to the loo alright…), but I hold up a hand to stop him. I stumble towards the downstairs bathroom and nearly run straight into Elisabeth who is chatting up one of Justin's Slytherin friends. She glares at me, and I have the strongest urge to apologize to her. But I don't. I just tug on the door to the bathroom and find that it's locked.

I suddenly realize how crowded it is, and I feel a bit claustrophobic. And by a bit, I mean a lot. Without caring that it's way past curfew, I manage to make it to the Portrait Hole and out into the corridor. There's a bathroom just down the way, and I figure that if I can get there, I can hide out for a good while and hopefully avoid the war that's set to erupt at any given time if one Potter boy happens upon another.

I don't know why everyone in my family is so fucked up.

It's all our parents' faults, of course. They're the ones who made us like this. It's no wonder none of us can even get along. Look at the fucking absentee role models we've got all around us. God, I'm going to be sick.

I stop walking and slide to the ground with my back against the stone wall. My head is pounding, my stomach hurts, and the whole corridor is spinning around me. I close my eyes, willing all of it to stop, and I don't even notice the footsteps that seem to come out of nowhere.

"Rose?"

Great. It's Malfoy.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, trying very hard to disappear with no real knowledge of Apparition whatsoever.

"I was coming to find Justin and Derek… Montague's looking for them, and I didn't want him to show up and get everyone in trouble. Are you okay?"

He's peering down at me in a really curious way, and all I can think about is what my dad said about his dad. And the way he said his name. With so much bitter contempt.

"I'm fine," I mumble. "I need to pee…"

I don't know why I tell him this, but he doesn't seem to mind. Instead, he offers me a hand. I look at it for a long second before finally taking it. I get about halfway to a standing position before my legs give out, and I fall back to the floor. I want to cry, though I've absolutely no idea why. Scorpius lets go of my hand and tries a different approach. He bends down and hooks both of his hands under my arms and literally pulls me into a standing position.

He's still very close to me, and I can't help but notice how cute he really is. He's looking at me like he's actually concerned about me. I don't remember anyone looking at me like that before.

"My family hates your family," I say, and it comes out as more of a whisper than anything else. He just barely nods, and I've got the feeling that he couldn't speak now even if he wanted to. But that's okay. He doesn't need to say anything. I stare at him for a moment or so longer and then slowly nod myself. "That's good…"

And then… I kiss him.

Quickly and fully and pointedly. And when my eyes flutter shut, I tell myself that it's just instinct.

And I take sick pleasure in knowing that nothing I could do in the world could piss my parents off more than this right here.

--

A/N: Ahhh… so quick update at least! Things are definitely going to start turning from here on out… Please review!


	22. Scorpius, Humiliation

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 22

**SCORPIUS, HUMILIATION**

--

Rose Weasley kissed me

She kissed me. And kissed me again.

And then she threw up on my shoes.

Here, let me explain. It was her cousin's birthday, and obviously when it's James Potter's birthday, there's going to be a party. I was not invited, nor did I really have any desire to attend, seeing as how I hate ninety percent of the people who go to those sorts of things. The only reason I even happened close by Gryffindor Tower that night was because Professor Montague showed up in my dorm room to do a surprise check and wanted to know where Justin and Derek were. I suppose he'd probably heard a rumor about the party and was probably on the war path trying to catch people at it. I made up some lie about them being in the shower and then immediately took the short cut through the east wing of the castle to warn them. Now, I don't particularly care too much about whether or not Justin and Derek get in trouble, but I didn't want every person at that party to end up busted when Montague inevitably showed up looking for his students. So I went to warn them.

You can imagine my surprise when I nearly tripped over someone's legs. I'm sure you can imagine that I was even _more _surprised when I realized the legs belonged to Rose. Obviously I didn't know what she was doing out there, and at first, I even thought she was asleep. It wasn't until I saw her look up at me and look like she was about to burst into tears that I asked her if she was okay. She snapped at me, of course, and asked me what I was doing there. And then she told me she had to pee. It was very obvious that she was very much drunk and completely off her head, obviously having attended her cousin's party... I helped her up and was going to make sure she got back to her Common Room, but she started doing this crazy hypnotizing eye thing, and I'm surprised I didn't just die right then. I was completely scared shitless, of course, and when she announced that her family hated mine… well, I was pretty much ready to just run away back to Slytherin.

But then she kissed me.

Confession. I've never kissed anyone.

Shocking, I know. Seeing as how I'm terribly popular and definitely the most sought after boy in my year… Yeah, right. So you're probably not _that _shocked. I haven't really had that many opportunities to get 'round to kissing any girls, considering most girls don't realize I'm alive and the ones who _do _usually think that I'm some sort of freak or something. I'm not exactly the most social person in the world, either, so I don't really make a whole lot of effort when it comes to chatting girls up, mostly because I would have no idea what to say to them.

But I finally kissed someone.

And it was _Rose._

Now, unlike myself, Rose happens to actually _have _a bit of experience in the kissing department, so she (obviously) knew what she was doing- far more than I did anyway… So I just sort of followed and copied what she did. I don't think she noticed any technique (or lack of) anyway because she was actually quite pissed, and I actually had to steady her on her feet once or twice because she seemed to have forgotten how to properly stand.

It was sort of weird kissing her, probably because it happened out of nowhere after all that time I spent thinking about it. But it was quite nice, too. Her lips were really soft, and even though she reeked of firewhiskey, she still smelt really nice all up close like that. I'm actually surprised my heart didn't stop beating right there in the corridor.

She mumbled something else, and I'm pretty sure it was something about her parents. I don't know for sure, though, because I pretty much lost the ability to think a second later when she kissed me again- a lot more pointedly than the first time- and shoved her tongue into my mouth. I definitely wasn't ready for that, and I accidentally bit down, which, of course, caused her to shriek in pain and jerk away. I was going to apologize, but she started looking more than a bit ill. I asked her again if she was okay, and this time, instead of telling me that she needed the bathroom, she said, "I think I'm going to be sick!" And to say that I moved to exactly the wrong spot at exactly the wrong time would be exactly the _right_ answer

And that's how I ended up with Rose Weasley's regurgitated dinner all over my shoes and the bottom of my trousers.

I didn't mean to, of course, but I don't have a very strong stomach and don't proclaim to… so I immediately started gagging and freaking out just a bit. Rose just turned around and smashed her face into the wall, groaning loudly as she furiously wiped at her mouth.

"Oh, god," she was mumbling. "Oh, god, oh, god, oh, _fuck." _

And then, as if she wasn't incredibly sick at all, she spun back around and whipped out her wand, announcing that she could fix it. I, of course, pushed her hand away immediately and told her it was fine, that I could take care of it. Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, though, because she seemed really offended and looked at me like she wanted to kill me. "I am _smart. _I am the smartest person in this whole bleeding _school! _I can do a damn Cleaning Charm!" She was actually sort of shrieking by the end… I then had to think quickly and assure her that I knew she was smart and agree that she was, in fact, the smartest person in the whole bleeding school and make up some lie about just wanting to practice my own Cleaning Charm (something we learned in First Year…). Really, though, I just didn't want her to misaim and blow my feet off my legs in her intoxicated state.

When I was finished cleaning the sick off my shoes, I sort of thought everything would be okay. Until she randomly burst into tears and threw herself at me. She sobbed into my shoulder, and I continued to panic because I had no idea what to do with a crying girl, much less one that should never be that close to me for the sake of my own sanity. I patted her awkwardly on the back and told her that everything would be okay.

That snapped her out of it.

She jerked back and wiped at her eyes furiously. "Don't tell anyone," she ordered seriously. I promised that I wouldn't and told her that crying wasn't that big of a deal and that she was just drunk so it really wasn't anything to be ashamed of… "Not the crying, you idiot, the kissing! Don't tell anyone I kissed you, or… or I'll kick your scrawny little arse." Now some people might not take that seriously, but I have personally witnessed her kicking a bloke's arse (one much less scrawny than my own), so I just nodded, obviously completely stunned.

And that was it.

She hasn't spoken to me since, and I haven't spoken to her. Every time I've seen her, she's hurried off in the other direction. She won't make eye contact with me, and she _definitely _won't speak to me. And when I saw her getting off the train at the station, she actually went out of her way to get as far away from me as possible. She literally walked _back _through the train to get off at the other exit and then ended up having to walk all the way around the outside of the train to meet her parents who were already waiting rather impatiently (mostly because there were several reporters and photographers present who were hounding them).

And that was the last I saw of her.

Christmas break is going pretty much as expected. I don't really have high expectations for being home, so I can't exactly be disappointed. There's no point in being any kind of disappointed anyway, seeing as how it simply is what it is and that's it. It's no worse than being at school, I suppose, but it _is _rather quiet.

My father has been out of the house quite a bit, and Mother is busy doing her usual tasks of decorating the house and making sure everything looks perfect for any unexpected guests who might drop by (which doesn't happen often, trust me). She has also apparently gone a bit overboard on planning the clothing for our annual Christmas family get together. I don't know why she bothers and puts so much effort into it, but I suppose it gives her something to do.

I'm staying in my room as much as possible, reading actually, though, of course, I don't enjoy advertising this fact. There's nothing else to do, though, so I guess I should be glad that there are at least several books in our library to keep me occupied. It keeps me from thinking about Rose too much at least. Thinking about the kissing, I mean. If I think about it _too _much, then, of course, I get a little too distracted and end up quite uncomfortable. I can't help it, though. It was amazing, probably the best moment of my entire life.

Too bad it'll never happen again apparently…

It's Christmas Eve, which means that we've got to spend the evening with my grandparents. I don't particularly enjoy this at all actually, considering the fact that there are few people in the world more intimidating than my grandfather. He is impossible to please and pretty much impossible to relate to. I also don't enjoy the fact that it's _dinner, _yet we have to carry on as though it's a bloody royal ball.

Mother has already laid out the robes that I'm to wear. I suppose she bought them especially for this night, though I've no idea why anyone would want to waste that sort of money on a pair of clothes that are only to be worn for one night. Mother is like that, though, and she would positively die before she'd let us leave the house in anything less than the best and most perfect clothing. The robes aren't _that _bad, I guess, but I'd much rather wear jeans and trainers to dinner.

I get dressed and find myself thinking about Rose (_again) _as I look myself over in the mirror. Her Christmas Eve dinner is probably much different than the one I've got to attend. She can probably wear jeans and trainers to hers and be just fine. Hers is probably also a lot of fun, laidback and spontaneous- not at all stuffy and structured like my family's. Of course, Rose is probably holed up in her room somewhere at this very moment pouting because she doesn't want to spend the evening with her "overbearing and annoying" family.

She doesn't know how lucky she's got it…

"Scorpius, are you ready yet?" Mother calls from somewhere downstairs. She sounds annoyed and impatient, so I decide it's best to just appease her. I make it downstairs to find her waiting. She is tapping her long fingernails on the banister and looking at me rather crossly.

"It's about time," she says, and she looks very beautiful. She's always been rather striking, and when she is dressed as she is today, in long flowing silk dress robes, she looks even more stunning than usual. Her dark hair is pulled up into a fancy knot at the back of her head, and her lips are painted dark red to stand out against her pale skin.

"Where's Father?" I ask, ignoring her comment as she looks me over and begins fixing my necktie.

"He's going to be late, so I told him to meet us over there. Your grandmother's already called wondering where we are."

"It's only six-thirty."

"I know that," she starts fiddling with my hair in what I suppose is an attempt to make it as flat as possible. She thinks it's too long, I can tell. "You need a haircut." See? Told you.

"It's fine," I reply, ducking away from her. I have the strongest urge to reach up and mess my hair up, but I doubt she would appreciate that too much, so I let it go.

Mother rolls her eyes but says nothing else as she goes over to the fireplace and pulls down the Floo Powder. "Try not to get too dirty. And make sure you don't drop any dust onto the floor when you arrive."

I know this lecture off by heart. I've been hearing it my entire life. I'll be damn well happy when I can finally Apparate and don't have to hear it anymore. Ignoring her, I take the powder and force myself toward Malfoy Manor. When I arrive, I take extra care not to track any dirt into the sitting room, as my mother would have my head. I don't know why because there are plenty of House Elves to clean it up. As Father would say, if they're going to be paid, they might as well work for their keep. Still, though, I'm extra careful and dust myself off before I step onto the sparkling hardwood floor.

No one is around, but I hear footsteps hurrying my way in the next second. My grandmother smiles widely when she sees me, and she rushes over to hug and kiss me and fawn over me in the way I suppose all grandmothers do. She babbles on incessantly for a few minutes- "Oh, you're getting so tall!" (I'm not); "How is school?" (Terrible); "You're a little thin, are you eating enough?" (Yes, I just naturally look like a rail)- and then she fawns over my mother for a bit, as she Apparates into the room a few seconds later.

I stand by and let them greet each other as though they haven't been together in years when I know for a fact that they are together each Sunday evening for dinner. It's alright, I suppose. I used to think that the affection shared between my mother and grandmother was a bit fake and more for appearances than anything else, but over the years, I've begun to think that they really do love each other and enjoy each other's company. Grandmother is the closest thing my mother's ever had to a mother, I suppose, as her own died when she was just seven years old. So they get on rather well, though I suspect that Mother's a bit frightened of my grandfather and is certainly always nervous and jittery around him.

"Come," Grandmother says, ushering us both toward the corridor, "have a drink."

She shoos both of us out of the "casual" sitting room and into the formal sitting room. Don't ask me what the difference is because I do not know. Perhaps the formal room has a bit more gold finish the furniture? I'm not sure. Malfoy Manor is the largest house that I've ever seen, and while my own house is far too big for three people, my grandparents' house is far too big for an entire army.

My family is rich. Very rich, actually. We may have lost any and all respect and credibility amongst the Wizarding community, but the monetary funds managed to stay intact. Most of the money was made illegally, I'm sure, though I don't know any specifics. My father and my grandfather both spend their time "investing" for a living, which is really just a fancy way of saying that they pay off the proper people who will benefit them the most and make them the most money in the end.

Benny, one of my grandparents' House Elves, enters the room right behind us with a tray of brandy and several glasses. He says nothing as we all take seats on the overstuffed couches, simply pours the brandy and serves it without speaking. I have been receiving brandy and other sorts of liquor at my grandparents' house for years. They apparently do not care that I'm not yet of age. It's funny because Mother never says a word when I drink here, but when we're at home, she absolutely refuses to allow me any sort of alcohol.

I sip the brandy and listen disinterestedly as Mother and Grandmother gossip over the latest man that my Aunt Daphne is seeing. They no longer seem to remember that I'm in the room, which is just fine with me, seeing as how I don't particularly have anything to add to the discussion of my aunt's whoriness. Finally, my father arrives, Apparating into the other room and then joining us. He immediately snatches a glass of brandy from Benny before dropping onto the sofa beside my mother. She gives him the same sort of once over that she gave me before we left the house and shakes her head disbelievingly as she's forced to straighten his tie as well. He ignores her, of course, and just looks on with the same bored expression I'm sure I've got as Mother and Grandmother go back to their gossiping. Every once in awhile, he'll look over at me and either quickly roll his eyes or raise his eyebrows in response to the dull mindlessness of the moment.

"Where's Father?" he asks finally, cutting into the conversation and effectively halting the discussion.

"Oh, he'll be along," Grandmother answers, sipping her drink. "He had some business at the Ministry, but I expect him any time now. After all, it's Christmas Eve, surely even the Minister of Magic himself wants to spend the holiday at home."

"What sort of business?" Father ignores the latter part of her statement all together.

"Oh, I don't know," Grandmother brushes by the topic quickly. "Nothing vital, I'm sure."

Almost as if on cue, a popping noise is heard behind us, and Grandfather appears out of nowhere. I watch how my father immediately sits up straight and stops slouching into the sofa cushions just as my mother unconsciously smoothes out her gown as she stands up. Benny hurries over with a glass of brandy, and Grandfather takes it without so much as glancing at the Elf. He brushes a kiss against my mother's cheek in hello before helping Grandmother up and giving her the same greeting. Father stands up, and they shake hands and otherwise avoid each other's gazes. And then I remember to stand up and have to follow their lead because that is what we do in this family.

"Scorpius," Grandfather says, nodding his head politely. "Having a good holiday?"

I nod and mumble a yes before my mother hisses at me to speak clearly and gives me a Look that makes me stand up a bit straighter.

"Dinner is ready, I presume?" Grandfather asks to no one in particular. He leads the way to the dining room, and we all follow obediently. I try to dawdle a bit, but my father puts a hand on my back and pushes me along, completely halting all of my attempts.

When we arrive at the dining room, I stand behind my chair and wait properly for my mother and grandmother to be seated before sitting down myself. Despite the table full of (admittedly deliciously looking) food, I can't help but think that I'd pretty much rather be anywhere else in the entire universe right now.

As we begin eating the Christmas Eve dinner, I try to make myself as invisible as possible. My grandfather makes "small talk" by way of asking me annoying questions like, "So you still haven't got a girlfriend yet?" and "Have you put any thought into your future? Well, I suppose you ought to make sure you can pass your OWLs first." I mumble responses and ignore the Looks that my mother shoots at me. We've got more alcohol at the table, so I can only hope that I can just get drunk and block them all out.

I pick at the four different types of pork that are filling my plate and don't pay much attention to the conversations around me until I hear my grandfather start in on a story about how he ran into that "Granger bitch" at the Ministry, and I vaguely think of what a nice Christmas dinner conversation this is turning into… It doesn't strike me until a few moments later when they start talking about the election that I realize he's talking about Rose's mother. The mention of Granger didn't immediately click, but obviously I realize that that was her maiden name. I look up just in time to see my father make a rather disgusted sort of face.

"She was strutting around as entitled as ever," Grandfather carries on, and he takes a long swig from the glass in front of him.

"Well, why wouldn't she?" It's my mother who speaks up, surprisingly. "She's got the entire lot of them in her back pocket, hasn't she? The entire Ministry is grooming her to be their new leader."

"Not the _entire _Ministry," Grandfather says pointedly. "There are at least a _few _people in that place who've still got their priorities straight."

"Well, let's just hope that they can spread enough influence around to keep this tragedy from happening." It's Grandmother now. It seems as if everyone's got something to say, everyone except Father anyway, though he certainly doesn't look overly-pleased with the idea.

"You can trust my word," Grandfather goes on, looking 'round at everyone, even me. "If that Mudblood gets into office, they're going to take over the entire Ministry, and all of _us _are going to pay for it."

"Maybe you shouldn't call her that," I speak up without even realizing that I've opened my mouth. I immediately want to take it back, mostly because my entire family looks at me like I've just killed someone at the dinner table.

Dead silence rings for a very long moment, and I have a terrible feeling that perhaps _I'll _be the one who's killed.

"And why shouldn't I?" Grandfather finally asks, his voice is low and _extremely _dangerous. I catch my father's eye for half a second, and he gives me the tiniest shake of the head.

My mouth feels incredibly dry, and I struggle over my words. "I… I just mean, well… isn't it a bit old-fashioned?"

Grandfather stares at me in what can only be described as shock. To my _own _shock, though, he ignores me and turns to my father instead.

"Do you see this? _This _is what you get for sending him to that school. I _told _you to send him to Durmstrang."

"Lucius-" Grandmother tries to cut him off, but he doesn't let her.

"No. You see what kind of trash is running that place. It was bad enough when _you _were there, it's only gotten worse, Draco. And _this _is what you get."

_This._

Like I'm some sort of… _this. _A piece of trash. A disappointment. A failure. And a disgrace to the Malfoy name.

Father says nothing. He just looks at me, and I can tell he wants to strangle me. I just look down at my plate and try to avoid his eyes. Grandfather keeps rambling on about the type of rubbish that I'm learning at "that place." And I just stare at the table.

It'll be a lovely Christmas, I'm sure.

--

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter! I love the mixed reactions that you guys have to all the different characters. Thank you so much for reading, I'm glad you're enjoying the story!


	23. Rose, and a Happy Christmas to You

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 23

**ROSE, AND A HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO YOU**

--

"Rose, for the love of _Merlin, _will you please hurry up?"

Dad is outside of my room and banging on my door rather obnoxiously. I know Mum sent him up here to speed me along, and I can imagine her nagging him to get upstairs and hurry me up. I can tell by the way his voice sounds that he's exasperated and annoyed- the number one suspect whenever he sounds that way is always my mother…

"Dad, I'm hurrying! _God!_" I shout back, a little more harshly than I probably should. But _damn, _doesn't he realize that by bugging me that he's only making _me _as exasperated and annoyed as he is? Maybe that's what he's going for. Misery loves company…

"You could watch your tone!" he shoots back, but he doesn't even sound that interested. I think it's more of a reflex than anything, so I just roll my eyes at the mirror and keep braiding my hair. I wouldn't normally even be worrying about my hair, but I accidentally fell asleep with it wet last night, and there's no amount of magic in the world that would be able to fix _that. _So I'm parting it and plaiting it and resigning myself to look twelve years old for Christmas lunch.

Christmas lunch. Yay. Fun times at the Burrow with the entire Weasley clan. Sounds positively _delightful. _

I wish I could make myself vomit on cue so that I could stay home and avoid the whole thing all together. Of course, I can't vomit on cue (apparently I can only do that on the shoes of boys, but that's a _different _story), and I don't have any Snackboxes at all to induce any sort of awful illness. So I suppose I'll be going to the Burrow and sitting down for Christmas with my grandparents, all my aunts and uncles, and all my cousins. Lovely.

Normally, I wouldn't be dreading it _this _much. But of course, normally I would be able to run off somewhere with Al and spend the afternoon making fun of various members of our family. Seeing as how we're not exactly speaking, though, this would prove to be a bit difficult. Yes, that's right. We're still not speaking. The most we've said to each other in the last month was on the train ride home when he told me I owed him five galleons for Grandmum's and Granddad's presents.

Truthfully, though, I want to talk to him more than anything. I _need _to talk to him. I'm pretty sure I've started the ball rolling on fucking up my entire life, and I don't _trust _anyone else.

If you don't know, I got drunk and kissed Scorpius Malfoy (and threw up on him, but _that's _a different story, too). I was very pissed at the time, but I actually remember it all quite clearly. I remember exactly the reason I kissed him, and I remember exactly how it felt.

I kissed him because I was mad at my parents and wanted to do something that would catch their attention and make them angry. Kissing the only son of their oldest sworn enemy seemed like a good enough plan at the time. Of course, I didn't count on actually _enjoying _it. Now, _yes, _I was more than a bit intoxicated. My judgment and senses were admittedly off. But it's impossible to imagine something like that.

He wasn't even that good of a kisser. In fact, with all the lack of technique and originality he showed, I wouldn't be surprised if that was his first kiss. He's certainly never had a girlfriend before- at least not to my knowledge- and he definitely doesn't seem like the type would randomly go around snogging girls just because he was bored.

But there was just something there. Something that I can't even really explain. It scared me actually, sort of made me want to vomit all over again. It was the way he _looked _at me- like he really liked me and like I was really something special. And sort of like he was _mesmerized _or something. Nobody ever looked at me like that before.

And now I can't stop thinking about it, and it's driving me mad. Of course, I can't bear to look at him now, and I _certainly _can't speak to him. I pretty much threatened him that if he tells anyone I'll kill him, which is weird since the whole reason I kissed him in the first place was so that people _would _find out- most specifically, of course, my parents. Now I don't want _anyone _to know.

Except Al.

Because I tell him everything, and I've never in my life had a secret from him. And he's the only one I trust to tell me what to do. Too bad he's not speaking to me and currently hates my guts.

"_Rose!" _

I slam my hand onto the top of my dresser and stomp over to yank my door open and glare at my little brother who has now taken over the task of banging on my door.

"If you don't fucking _stop _beating on my door, I'm going to beat your head!" I threaten seriously.

Hugo doesn't appear too frightened. In fact, he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Mum said to tell you that if you're not downstairs in two minutes that she's going to come up here and yank you down by the root of your hair."

I roll my own eyes. "Oh, tell her to bloody try it!" I hiss and slam the door in his face.

"_Mum, Rose says to bloody try it!"_

The little prat actually yells this down the stairs. I grumble to myself and grab my bag from the bed before deciding I'd probably better get downstairs before she really _does _come up and try it. As luck would have it, I'm just in time to meet her halfway on the stairs.

"Are you quite finished?" she asks, fixing me with a narrowed look that lets me know that she probably didn't appreciate my relayed message too much.

"I was trying to get dressed, Mum," I say back, carefully avoiding her as I pass her on the steps. "Did you want me to go over there starkers?"

"You've been dressed since before breakfast."

Well, shit. She's got me there. That totally would have flown by Dad.

Mum 1/Rose 0.

"Well, I had to do my hair, Mum," I quickly cover as I hurry down the stairs. "It was horrid, as I'm sure you can imagine."

Mum says something back, but I block it out, as I'm prone to do whenever she starts speaking. I make it down to the sitting room where Dad is fighting with Landon and trying to shove shoes onto his feet. Landon is wailing that the shoes hurt, and Dad is growing more and more frustrated as he orders him to stop crying and get over it.

"Oh, Ron, those shoes don't fit him!" Mum says, shaking her head as she follows me into the room. "He hasn't fit those in three months!"

Dad looks like he wants to scream, and he yanks the too-small shoes off of Landon's feet and throws them across the room. "Then why the bloody hell are they still in his closet?!" he snaps.

Mum ignores him completely and disappears from the room, reentering a moment later with a different pair of toddler trainers. She purses her lips and hands them wordlessly to Dad who snatches them away and grumbles something under his breath. Mum just raises her eyebrows in what is a very familiar dare that Dad smartly doesn't take (though he does glare at her when she finally turns her back).

I throw myself down onto the sofa and lean forward to shove Hugo's feet off the coffee table. "You're so gross," I hiss at him.

"They're brand new," he hisses back, indicating the new trainers on his feet that he just opened earlier that morning for Christmas. In defiance, he plops them back on the table.

"They're still _feet!"_

"My feet smell better than _you_ do!"

Sometimes I want to strangle this kid. He is _so _annoying and so completely… _thirteen. _

"Stop it, you two," Mum says sharply. "Hugo, get your feet off the table. Rose, stop bossing your brother."

Now does that make sense? All I did to "boss him" was tell him to get his nasty feet off of the coffee table. Mum tells him the same thing, yet I get in trouble for saying it first. Yay.

Why couldn't I be an only child? Like Scorpius. He's an only child, he doesn't even have any _cousins. _Wow, okay, stop thinking about Scorpius bloody Malfoy!

Mum looks harried and looks like she's about to lose her damn mind. "Are we ready?" she finally snaps. Then she looks down to where Landon is playing with toy train (shoes on and tied), and she looks as if she's going to explode. "Ronald, _honestly_!" She's saying Ronald to prove that she's smarter than him (she does this because it makes her sound like his mother- which is really rather sickening when you think about it…). "Do you _want _your son to catch pneumonia, or do you plan on putting a coat on him?"

"Oh, yeah," Dad retorts sarcastically. "That's exactly what I want, Hermione, how'd you ever guess?" He gets up and stomps over to the hall closet where he pulls out a small blue and gray coat. "Does this fit him? Or did he outgrow _it_ three months ago, too?"

Mum glares at him and yanks the coat out of his hands before pulling it onto Landon and buttoning him up. He whines about being hot, and she completely refuses to acknowledge him. When she is finished, she grabs her own bag, which has been expanded to hold a million brightly wrapped gifts for the family, and starts doling out orders. Dad's to take Landon and Apparate. Hugo and I are to take the Floo (and not to fight!). She's going to bring the presents and the chocolate cake (that she bought at a Muggle bakery, but don't tell anyone because it's not her fault she's crap in the kitchen- she has other talents, like yelling and giving orders).

The Burrow is packed to the brim with people, which is, of course, anything but unexpected. My entire family's here, and it's damn near impossible to even hear yourself think, much less move. But it's Christmas lunch, which is, at least, good on that end, as the food's guaranteed to be spectacular. Even Uncle Charlie's here, and he lives so far away that often times he can't make it. He's also got a fabulously dramatic life that involves dragons, lots of women, and probably a fair bit of alcohol. The only person missing is Lucy who is apparently spending the holiday with her new boyfriend's family in the South of France.

The main attraction of the day is, of course, the new baby (who _is, _in fact, called Dora Jo apparently- I guess Teddy won that one), and I can tell just by looking at Victoire that she wishes she was at home spending a quiet day with her new little family. I don't blame her. I'd much rather be spending a quiet day _anywhere _away from here. Why can't _I _have a boyfriend whose family holidays in the South of France over Christmas? Stupid Lucy.

I sit by myself in a corner of the sitting room and try to keep Landon occupied by reading to him from some worn out book that I found on the bookshelf. It looks about a million years old and smells slightly like moth balls, but Landon seems to be enjoying himself. He's the only one here who likes me anyway, so I may as well keep him happy.

Al walks by at one point and sort of glares at me, but at least he doesn't pick a fight with me or anything. I wonder how long it's going to take for everyone to realize that we're not speaking. They're all pretty busy right now, but it won't be that long before they notice that we're avoiding each other. I see James and Fred disappear together, and I wonder if James is going to brag about his latest accomplishment.

And by accomplishment, of course, I mean Meghan Thomas.

I don't know if Al is aware of what happened yet or not, but I suppose he's probably not, seeing as both he and James are both still alive. Once the news breaks, I'm very sure that it's going to be a fight to death between the Potter boys. Especially if Al finds out _all _of it…

And by the way, Meg hates me again, too. So now I'm down to absolutely zero on the friends scale. Which is awesome, let me tell you.

She thinks that I'm crazy and that I'm trying to hurt her and be mean to her. Just because I told her that James doesn't really like her. And I can't help it if it's the truth, now can I? It's not that I'm doing it to be mean, I just don't want _him _to hurt her even more than he already has. And he will, trust me.

The night of his party, I was so completely pissed that I actually sort of forgot about Meghan and James snogging downstairs on the Common Room sofa. I was a little more concerned with the fact that I myself was kissing Scorpius Malfoy and throwing up on his shoes. It wasn't until she was shaking me awake the next morning at the arsecrack of dawn that I really remembered.

She looked so pleased with herself, and even though I felt like shit, I sat up and made room for her to climb into my bed and tell me whatever big news she had.

"I just had sex!"

Okay, so I didn't particularly expect that. I don't know why I was surprised, really, seeing as how James is the dirtiest whore I've ever met in my entire life, but I guess that I just didn't really believe he'd take it _that _far. She was a virgin. And not that that means anything to him, since he collects virginities like some people collect Chocolate Frog cards, but _still. _She wasn't just some random girl he ran into in the Great Hall. Their dads are friends. Not to mention, of course, the fact that his brother is pretty much in love with her.

But I guess those things don't matter to James. He has to win everything, no matter what.

The conversation went downhill from there. I tried to explain to Meghan that she needed to be careful with James because he was just going to use her and throw her aside like he did with every other girl that he fucked. I tried to tell her that he didn't really like her and that she deserved someone much better than that…

But she just got furious.

She insisted that he _did _like her because he _told _her so. And that there was no way he would ever be able to be _that _sweet and gentle with her if he was just using her. And when I told her that that's what he _does, _that he's a _liar, _she got furious with me and accused me of being jealous.

"_Jealous?!" _I asked incredulously. "Jealous of what?! That you had sex with my cousin? Sorry, but I don't really want to…"

"Jealous that the most popular boy in the entire school likes me and all you do is make a mess of everything around you!"

"Meghan, I'm not saying this to hurt you. But I've known James Potter since the day I was born. I know how he is and what he is. He is a _liar_, and he will say anything in the world to get whatever he wants at that exact second. _Trust me."_

"You just hate him so much that you can't even look past that and maybe just for one second be happy for me!"

I wanted so badly to tell her that the only reason he was even showing the remotest of interest in her was because he was using her to get back at Al. But obviously I didn't because I would have had to tell her exactly why that would be considered getting back at him. And I wasn't going to spill that secret. No matter what sort of personal rift Al and I were currently in.

So to make a very long and drawn out conversation very short, she hates me and thinks I'm jealous of her because she got drunk and had sex with someone I share an actual bloodline with.

Riiiight.

"There you are, Rosie!"

I look up to see Granddad smiling down at my happily. I smile back, and Landon grins and waves up at him giddily.

"I haven't seen you all afternoon," Granddad says, bending down to scoop Landon up.

"We've just been here reading," I answer, standing up myself and holding up the old musty book as proof.

"How're the holidays treating you?"

"They're alright," I lie. Really I want nothing more than to be back at school (though I haven't got any allies there, either…).

"Rose, can you help with the tables?" I look over to see Aunt Ginny walking by, she smiles at her dad and waves me over. I follow her outside, wondering why in the world we're eating outside in the middle of December, but I realize a second later that there aren't any tables out here and that she's brought me out here to escape.

"You look like you could use a break," she says, smiling at me as she drops onto the backdoor steps.

"Thanks," I reply, grateful for the fact that she could read my expression and know that I was getting annoyed by the overabundance of people.

"When I was a kid, I used to come back here to hide. You can't see these steps from the kitchen window, so unless someone actually came outside, they'd never know I was back here." She reaches down and pulls a blade of dead grass out of the frozen ground.

I think of how awful it must have been to be her growing up. Thinking of how annoyed I get at Hugo, I can't imagine being the only girl and having _that _many brothers. I hope Landon always stays sweet.

"So you're having a shit time at school, huh?" she asks, glancing at me sideways as she fiddles with the blade of grass. I just look back questioningly, wondering what she's referring to. "I heard about the fight," she finally clarifies.

"Oh," I nod. "Yeah."

"D'you want to talk about it?"

I shake my head. "No."

She just nods. "Okay."

It's not that I don't trust Aunt Ginny. She is the only adult in this entire family I'd ever consider spilling secrets to, but I just don't feel like talking about the fight or anything having to do with it. She doesn't press. I realize, though, that this is the prime opportunity to finally tell someone about the other night. I just don't know if I want my aunt to be the one to hear it… Finally, though, I decide that she won't freak out, and I very carefully broach the subject.

"Aunt Ginny," I say slowly, reaching down to pick my own grass so that I can have something to fiddle with as well. "Did you ever… like someone that you shouldn't like?" I try to figure out the most roundabout way to say it.

"What, you mean like your brother's best mate?" She laughs, but I don't get it. I just sort of look at her.

"My brother's best mate is thirteen. And a girl."

Aunt Ginny rolls her eyes. "I'm not-" Then she shakes her head and snickers. "Nothing, go ahead."

I take a deep breath. "Well, there's this boy… And I think I like him, but I'm not really sure if I like _him _or just the _idea _of him…"

"Does he like you?"

I shrug, avoiding her gaze. "I dunno. Maybe."

"Why would you like the idea of him? Is he popular?"

I shake my head immediately. "No, not at all. He's the opposite, really."

"So you feel like you shouldn't date him because people will look down on you?" She raises her eyebrows, and I shake my head again.

"No. I don't care what people think." I cut myself off and sigh. "Well, I _do, _but that's got nothing to do with this."

"Then why shouldn't you like him? Is he nice?"

"He's very nice. He's probably the nicest boy in my whole year."

"Then I don't see what the problem is." Aunt Ginny drops the remnants of grass back to the ground. "If you both like each other and he's nice and you don't care what people might say, then why do you feel like you shouldn't like him?"

I don't say anything for a really long moment, and then finally I look over at my aunt with as serious of an expression as I can muster. "If I tell you something, will you _swear _not to tell anyone? Not Uncle Harry and _especially _not my parents?"

She looks uncomfortable, and I can tell that's a promise she doesn't want to commit to. "If it's something your parents need to know about, I can't promise you that," she says honestly. Great. She probably thinks I'm into hard drugs or up the duff or something.

"They don't need to know," I say seriously.

Aunt Ginny looks wary, but she finally nods. "Okay, I promise."

I swallow. Suddenly I feel as if I've got a lump the size of England in the back of my throat. "It's Scorpius Malfoy," I finally say, daring to look at her from the corner of my eye as I keep my head ducked.

Aunt Ginny says nothing, and I almost think that I see the corner of her mouth twitch into what might be a smile. Great. So she's definitely going to take this seriously, I can see that now… Why did I even open my mouth?

When it seems that she can think of nothing else to say, she finally just says, "Oh."

"So yeah," I say, rolling my eyes. "I kissed him."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And… well, I did it because I thought it would piss my parents off… but then, then it was sort of alright." I finish the sentence a lot more quietly than I began it.

"But now you don't want your parents to find out?"

I look up quickly and desperately. "No! I don't want anyone to find out because I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do. I can't even _look _at the kid now!"

"Rose, maybe you should talk to him about this instead of to me. If he's really as nice as you say, don't you think he might be a little confused if you went from kissing him to not even looking at him?"

I shrug, though, of course, that's exactly what I think. I just don't want to say it out loud because it'll make me feel a little bit better if I can convince myself that I'm not a complete and total bitch.

"You won't tell, will you?" I ask seriously, studying her face for any indication that she might be off to spill this bit of information with her husband or, worse, my parents.

"I won't tell," she promises. "But you should do the right thing and not just use him because you think it's an easy way to make your parents angry. Especially if he really likes you. That's not fair to him."

I nod. I know she's right, of course. I knew that before I even started this conversation. Still, though, it feels good to have at least told _someone. _I still wish Al was speaking to me so that I could get his take on it. Oh, well, though, I guess his mum'll have to do for now.

Aunt Ginny squeezes my knee and gets up. She says she's going back in to _really _help with the tables this time before her mum finds her and rips her a new one. I nod and stay outside by myself for a little while longer thinking about everything.

There's no way in hell I can just _talk _to Scorpius Malfoy about this. I swear I don't even know how to look at him anymore. I know that it's not right to use him like that, but I'm afraid that he might seriously like me. I don't _want _him to like me. I'm way too mean for him. I won't do anything but mind-fuck him and screw him up in horrendous amounts.

God, I'm such a bitch.

Maybe Meghan's right. Maybe I _am _jealous of her. Because as much as I hate to admit it… if James wasn't my cousin, we'd probably be a perfect match.

Seeing as how we're quite possibly the two worst pieces of shit on the face of the planet.

--

A/N: Al's up next. Hope you guys liked this one! Thanks for taking the time to review the last chapter! I got this one out quick for you…


	24. Al Doesn't Care

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 24

**AL DOESN'T CARE**

--

"_I already said I was sorry a million fucking times, I don't know what else you want me to say!"_

"_I don't want you to say anything! I'm not having this discussion while the kids are here."_

"_Oh, fine! Go ahead and leave! That's what you're good at, isn't it?!"_

"_I have to go to work if you want a place to live!"_

"_Just go!"_

"_Fine!"_

A door slams somewhere downstairs, but I don't know if it's Dad trying to make a dramatic exit when he could clearly just Disapparate… or if it's Mum slamming doors because she doesn't have anything else to slam. Either way, it's very loud, and the whole house shudders with the after-effect of it.

This is pretty much a daily occurrence. It's been this way ever since we got home for break, and it hasn't stopped since. They keep having the same fights over and over again whenever Dad's home. And then he always just leaves again, claiming that he has to go back to work. He's been doing nothing _but _working the whole time we've been home. I'm quite sure that he doesn't have to spend _that _much time at the office, but he's very clearly using it as an excuse to get away from here.

I don't blame him, I wish I had a job that could help me escape from here, too.

I don't know what they're fighting about, nor do I particularly care. It's just annoying, though, because they don't normally do this. The only other time I can remember them fighting like this was a couple of years ago that summer when Rose was kidnapped. They fought all the time then, too, but everyone was under a lot of pressure back then, so I guess that shouldn't have been surprising. They got over it and were back to normal pretty quickly then. Somehow, though, I've got a feeling that that won't be the case this time around.

This time, whatever they're fighting about is personal. It isn't just being caused by abnormal amounts of stress or anything like that. Whatever it is must be pretty bad considering the fact that all they do is yell about it without ever _saying _it. One of them always pulls the "kids" card and shuts the other one up.

It's just strange, though, to hear them at it like that. My parents have always gotten along very well for the most part, and they hardly ever fight. They aren't like Rose's parents, who I'm pretty sure have probably never had a civil conversation in their entire lives, yet somehow never manage to actually get really mad at each other. When her parents fight, it's as normal an occurrence as breathing. They snap at each other and shoot dirty looks and make sarcastic comments, yet they're always _really _fine. That's just how they are. I often wonder how they ever got together in the first place because if they're still like this a million years later, I really can't imagine how they must have been as moody teenagers.

My parents, though… when they fight, they actually mean it. They don't just start screaming at each other or making mean remarks unless they actually have a reason to argue. It's only a matter of time before one of them slips and lets the reason out… even in front of us "kids."

Dinner that night is basically nonexistent. Mum doesn't cook anything, but I still creep downstairs at seven o'clock anyway. I know there's nothing to eat, but it's habit. I'm hungry, so I decide I may as well look through the cupboards and see if there's anything I can throw together. The kitchen is empty, and the whole house is pretty much quiet. Mum has apparently shut herself up in her room, as I haven't heard a sound from her ever since the fight. James and Lily are both upstairs somewhere, I guess. Not that I care.

The cupboards are quite disappointing, and seeing as how I don't really know how to cook, the best I can come up with is a ham sandwich. I wish I was seventeen so that I could at least put together something decent, but seeing as how I am only fifteen… I guess I'll make do with the sandwich.

I don't notice anyone else in the kitchen until I hear Lily's voice behind me asking if I'll make her one, too. I turn around to look at her, and she sort of looks as if she's just woken up. Her hair is a bit tangled, and she's dressed in pajamas, despite the fact that it's not nearly time for bed.

"Have you been asleep?" I ask, turning back around to be nice and make her a sandwich as well.

"Mmm-hmm," she mumbles sleepily, leaning over to rest her head on top of the counter. "I had to put earplugs in to block out the screaming."

I don't have to ask what she's referring to. I just sort of nod in response and hand her a sandwich.

"I'll be glad when school's back on," she says with a mouthful of bread and meat. "I can't wait to get out of here."

I don't particularly blame her, seeing as how I pretty much feel the same way. It's bad enough being here and having to listen to the fighting all the time, but it's even worse having to be this close to James twenty-four hours a day. At least at school I can avoid him most of the time… Here, though, I've got no choice but to be in the same room with him sometimes. I can't even Floo over to Rose's because I'm still not speaking to her, either. I just want to get away from all of this and go back to where at least I can pretend to be distracted by OWLs or something.

"D'you know why they're fighting all the time?" Lily asks, and her voice is kind of quiet and distant.

Obviously I don't know anymore than she does, so I just shrug. I kind of feel bad for Lily because even though she's definitely got bratty tendencies, she still looks at the world through rose-colored glasses, and I'm sure she can't imagine that anything might actually be wrong with our parents. I, on the other hand, can imagine it quite well. I just choose not to.

We eat our sandwiches in silence, and then I start washing up the dishes, not that there are many- just a couple of plates and glasses. I take my time, though, because there really isn't anything else to do. When I'm finished, I decide to do some other cleaning, the kitchen doesn't really look as if it's been scrubbed in awhile. I don't _enjoy _cleaning, but I'm bored enough to do anything right at the moment. Lily goes and gets her homework and sets it up at the kitchen table, and we both work wordlessly for a little while until an owl lands on the windowsill and starts pecking obnoxiously. I open the window and let it fly it. It's not one that I recognize, so when I pull the letter from its leg, I'm not too surprised to see that it's addressed to James. Instinct tells me to throw it in the rubbish bin just to be an arse, but Lily's got up and is looking over my shoulder.

"_James!" _she yells in the direction of the stairs. _"You've got a letter!"_

I glare at her, but she completely misses it. James is apparently just as bored as we are because the prospect of mail sends him downstairs immediately. He snatches the letter from my hand and leans against the counter to open it. I can tell just by the cocky smirk on his face that it's from some girl, probably some little slag he fucked in the second floor broom closet. I throw the sponge I'm using into the sink and start to leave, disgusted by just the sight of him.

"James, do _you _know what Mum and Dad are fighting about?" I hear Lily ask him as I head out of the room.

He brushes her aside, "Why would I give a shit? Hey, Al!"

It's the first time he's directly addressed me in what seems like years. My head tells me to just keep going because I'm sure I'm not going to _love _whatever he's got to say. Of course, I stop anyway because I don't always listen to my head when I should. I turn around and look at him, saying nothing.

He has that same sort of look on his face that has driven me mental for the last fifteen years. That look that just _screams _that he's better than me and that he is more talented and more liked and more popular and more _everything. _I just look back.

"You still not talking to Rose?" he asks, leaning back against the counter in a really blasé sort of way.

I don't know what he's on about, so I don't say anything. I just stare at him.

"I guess that's a no," he rightly guesses. "So I guess you haven't heard the news."

I take the bait, I can't help it. "What news?"

James just smirks, and he tilts his head to crack his neck casually. "Oh, just the bit about me fucking your girlfriend."

I continue to just stare at him. I try really hard to listen to my head and just _leave _because whatever he's goading me into can't be too good. My feet and my mouth have different plans, though, because I just continue to stand there and I hear myself saying, "What're you talking about?"

I'm playing right into his plan, and I can tell. The look of glee on his face isn't lying by any means. He continues to just lean against the counter just like he hasn't got a care in the world. I suppose when you live in his world, it's really easy not to have any cares. When everything in the whole fucking world is handed to you on a silver platter, I'm sure it's quite simple to have absolutely no worries.

"You know," he says casually, "your little perfect Prefect match made in heaven."

He is lying. He is _lying. _I know he's lying because there's no way in hell that Meghan would ever, _ever _go anywhere near him. She is way too smart to fall for his bullshit. He's trying to get me to react, and I won't do it. I won't.

"You know those tits you've been chasing for the last five years? Well, I've seen them up close, little brother, and let me tell you that they weren't disappointing."

I can literally feel the blood pumping through my body, and I feel like every single one of my senses has suddenly heightened by a hundred. The only thing I _can't _seem to do is think straight. My brain is fighting with the whole rest of my body, and I have absolutely no control over anything.

All I can do is just simply say, "No, you haven't."

He's got to be lying. He _has _to be. I try to keep telling myself that. But it's hard when he's looking at me like that with that infuriating smirk that I've hated my entire life.

"Really?" He shakes his head and then holds up the letter he's holding. "Proof's in the pudding, mate."

_Don't take it. Walk away. _

I take it.

I know, I'm completely doing exactly what he wants me to do. But I can't help it. I told you, my mind has no control over my body.

_Dear James,_

_How is your break? Mine is terribly boring. Even Christmas was awful, I'm so ready to go back to school. I never thought I'd say that! I hope your holiday is better than mine, but I'm fairly certain that it couldn't be worse._

_I really hope that you're having a good time. I can't wait to see you when we get back. I talked to Rose about everything that happened, and she isn't being very supportive (to put it mildly). She says she isn't being mean, but obviously you're not her favorite person in the world… I am a bit confused, though, just because I haven't heard from you. But I know how busy you are, and I can only imagine how much you have to do over Christmas with your family. I'm really excited to see you, and I hope you'll write me back. If you don't, though, I understand. I'll see you soon!_

_Love,_

_Meg_

_PS- I don't regret any of it, and I really do believe everything you said to me. See you!_

I'm still very aware of the blood pumping through my veins. It's so fucking hot in here, and all I can see are the words on the paper in front of me blurring and taunting me. And I don't believe it. I can't _make _myself believe it.

He wouldn't do this to me, not _really. _Why would he do this?

"Believe it now?"

I look up and straight at him. He is still just _smirking, _and I haven't ever in my life felt the way I'm feeling right now. I want to make him _hurt._

"Don't cry about it, mate. I'm sure it's not the last time somebody you fancy is going to find something better, it's good practice for the future."

"Why would you do this?" I ask lowly, straining to keep my voice level.

"To teach you a lesson," he shoots back. "I told you not to fuck with me."

I can't even say anything back. I just stare at him.

"You can have her now," he goes on. "And you can thank me later for breaking her in."

And then I don't even know what happens. The next thing I know, I've got two hands wrapped around his throat, and all I want to do is _kill _him. Literally. I can't concentrate on anything else except destroying him. He is bigger than me, taller and thicker. He's won every single time we've ever fought. But not this time. This time I refuse to even let him have a _chance. _So I choke him.

He's trying to shove me off, and I don't even remember that Lily's in the room until I hear her start screaming for Mum. Logically, I realize that I need to stop because this isn't even _sane. _But I can't help it because all I want is to watch James suffer.

Mum runs in, and she screams something that's apparently a shield charm because I go flying backwards with an uncontrollable force. James is coughing loudly, and I feel myself yanked to my feet.

"Somebody better tell me what the hell is going on right _now," _Mum isn't joking. Her voice is about as dangerous as I've ever heard it. But I don't care.

"He's mental is what's going on!" James spits out, and he's looking at me wildly.

Mum's still got my arm, and I can feel her looking at me, but I don't take my eyes away from James.

"_Explain," _she demands. When I don't say anything, it's obvious that she's quickly losing her patience. "Tell me what the _hell _is going on!"

"I hate you," I say seriously, ignoring my mother and speaking directly to my brother. "I hate you, and I wish you would _die_."

The next thing I register is the feel of Mum's open palm as it makes contact with my face. She _slaps _me. It stings, but I barely notice

"Don't you _ever _say that again! Do you understand me?"

I don't care. I can't help but glare at her and wonder how the hell _I'm _the one in trouble over this. But I just don't care.

"You don't even _joke _about that!" she snaps at me.

"I'm not joking!" I spit back.

Mum looks like _she's_ about to strangle _me. _"Lily, go call your father," she orders without even turning her head. Then she keeps on her tirade against me. "You better tell me what's going on right _now."_

"Ask him!" I yank my arm away from her and storm out of the room. I hear her scream after me (full name) and order me to get back in there, but I ignore her. Lily's at the fire, I guess trying to call Dad to come home and handle the situation. I shove her out of the way and grab the Floo Powder. I know I'm going to be in major trouble, but right now I have more pressing matters to attend to.

The living room of my aunt and uncle's house comes into view, and I step into it completely uninvited. It's empty, but I hear footsteps and then Aunt Hermione appears, obviously coming to see who is dropping into her house unannounced.

"Oh, hi," she smiles at me, and I wonder if she knows what a complete bitch her daughter is.

"Where's Rose?" I ask, not even attempting small talk.

"She's in her room…" She looks at me oddly. "Al, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I say quickly, dodging any of the rest of her questions and hurrying up the stairs to the second level of their house. Rose's room is at the end of the hallway, and her door is shut. This isn't surprising, seeing as how she likes to avoid her family at all cost.

I don't bother knocking. I barge right in, and she jumps up from her desk and spins around to yell at whoever has just invaded her privacy. When she sees that it's me, though, she doesn't say anything. She just stops and looks at me.

"How _could _you?" I demand, glaring at her. "You _knew. _You knew, and you didn't tell me!"

"Tell you what?" she asks, calmly, though the look on her face plainly gives away the fact that she knows exactly what I'm referring to.

"Tell me why you're such an evil bitch that you would keep something like that from me and just let me look like a fucking idiot!"

Rose's eyes narrow, and she suddenly doesn't look so wary. "Don't you come in here and start swearing at me! If you're mad at James, you need to take that shit up with him!"

"I'm mad at _you! _What else should I expect from James?! _You _should have told me!"

Apparently we're being very loud because her mum shows up and comes in behind me. "What is going on in here?"

We both ignore her, and Rose glares at me. "When should I have told you?! You haven't spoken to me in a fucking _month!"_

"Yeah, because _you _decided you'd rather sell your soul and run 'round with James when he's done nothing but treat you like shit your whole _life!_"

"At least he took up for me!" she shouts back. "You weren't even there!"

"_Stop!" _Aunt Hermione has now joined in on the screaming, and her outburst momentarily shuts both of us up. "_What _is going on?"

"You're just like him!" I yell, not staying shut up for too long.

Rose glares at me. "Get out of my room!"

"Fine! I don't ever want to speak to you again!"

"Good!"

"You two stop it right now!" her mum breaks in. "_What's _happened?!"

If she wants to know, she can find out from her daughter. I try to get past her, but she blocks my way.

"Let him go!" Rose sneers. "I don't want him anywhere near me."

"Rose, you better watch it."

"I didn't even do anything!" she protests. "God, of _course _you'd take his side!"

"Just _stop!" _Aunt Hermione puts a hand on my shoulder and tries to stop me, but I am not in the mood to deal with this.

"_Al!"_

I'm not in the mood to deal with _that, _either, as my mother's voice drifts up from the floor below. Aunt Hermione lets me go and follows me downstairs to where my mum is waiting impatiently and glaring at me the second I come into view. I don't even care, though. I don't care about any of it anymore. They can do whatever they want to do. I don't fucking _care._

"You get back home immediately," Mum orders sharply.

"What's going on?" Aunt Hermione asks.

"I have no idea except for the fact that he tried to _strangle _his brother!"

"He and Rose are into it, too."

I hear them continue talking about me like I'm not even in the room, but I don't care. I don't care how much trouble I'm in, and I don't care what any of them think. None of it even matters anymore.

I grab some more Floo Powder and head back to my house. Dad is there, I'm sure. And I'm sure I'm probably in more trouble than I've ever been in in my entire life.

But I just don't fucking _care._

--

A/N: Ohhh, the angst. I'm so glad I'm not a teenage boy! Haha, please review!


	25. James, Whatever

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 25

**JAMES, WHATEVER**

--

I won.

Officially. I'm the winner. My little prat of a brother now knows not to fuck with me. He _should _have known a long time ago, but now he's been smacked in the face with it. And now he knows.

I will always win.

Of course, Dad completely blames me for everything, and he doesn't even know the whole story. Mum, shockingly, actually seems more hacked off at Al. The result, of course, is that now my parents have new ammunition to use in their fight against each other. They have both taken sides, and they're apparently sticking to them and against each other.

Mum's only on "my side," though, because Al said he hated me and wished that I was dead. This pissed her off more than anything else that was going on because she does, in fact, have a dead brother. So I guess she's a bit sensitive about the issue. Otherwise, I've no doubt whatsoever that she'd be wrapping Al up in a blanket and rocking him to sleep.

But, as it is, my parents are split in opinion and are using it as their latest excuse for fighting.

I don't know what's going on with them, and I guess I don't particularly care too much. I do wish they'd shut the hell up once in awhile so that I could get some decent sleep without having to hear them shout at each other and slam doors. I really can't imagine what they must be like when we're away at school. It must be a million times worse, as they're apparently being quite careful about not spilling too much in front of any of the "kids."

Now that they have my brother and me to argue over, things are louder than ever. Dad hates me (of course), and he'd probably take Voldemort's side against me if it came to it. Mum isn't my _biggest _fan, but as Al offended her deeply with his wishing me dead bit, she has taken to defending me. They don't even really know what's going on, that's the best bit. Neither of us have told the whole story, though I'm sure he's told more than I have. I'm playing dumb, like always, and he's mostly just saying he hates me over and over and that he can't believe we're brothers. Lily, who probably knows ninety-five percent of what's going on (or at least can infer, seeing as how she was in the kitchen when it all came to light) has smartly decided to stay out of it and claims she knows nothing.

That leaves… Rose.

And if anybody will start ratting, it's her. She will do this because she apparently hates both of us. I mean, that's no surprise as far as I'm concerned, seeing as how she's hated me for probably a full fifteen years now… but the whole Al thing is still pretty new. They've been on non-speaking terms for the past few weeks, but Al ran straight out of here yesterday and apparently cursed her out and pretty much told her that she's as much to blame as I am. I know this because Rose sent me a really nasty note that told me all about.

_James,_

_Look, you disgusting little prick, I fucking hate you, and I can't believe what a fucking bastard you are! Doing what you did to Meghan is about the lowest thing anyone could ever do. Not that you care, of course, because you have absolutely no conscience whatsoever- that much is obvious by the way you've spent the last eighteen years of your sorry little life. But this was probably the worst thing you've ever done (and that's saying a LOT). I hope you feel good about yourself, knowing that Meghan actually thinks you give two shits about her, and I hope you're happy knowing that you took advantage of someone who probably didn't even know what she was doing at the time!_

_I REALLY hope you're happy that you did the worst thing a person could ever do to somebody else, especially their own BROTHER. You are the lowest piece of scum in the entire world, and taking some stupid sibling rivalry to that level is really fucked up- even for you. You deserve all sorts of bad things, and I hope every single one of them happens to you tenfold! _

_And now, thanks to you, Al hates me, too. He thinks I should have told him what was going on or stopped you or something, I don't know. Maybe I should have, but I can't go back and change things now. Regardless, anything I did doesn't even compare to what you've done, and you deserve every bit of misery that your life is sure to be! Things aren't going to be the same when you graduate and go into the real world, I hope you know that. You aren't going to be able to flip your hair out of your eyes and have the whole fucking world fall at your feet like everyone at school does- it doesn't work like that in the real world. You need to grow the fuck up and realize that you're only destined for horrible things. And I can't wait until you get them!_

_-Rose_

Now, I know what you're thinking. _Wow, she must really hate you. _Well, no shit. But whatever, I don't care. Rose Weasley has felt that way about me her entire life, and the feeling is pretty mutual. She's nothing but a stuck up, swotty little brat who talks too much and thinks she knows _everything. _People think _I'm _the worst out of all the kids, but it's really Rose by a mile. She is such a snob and _such _a drama queen. But who cares? She's a fifteen year old brat who thinks the whole fucking world is below her just because she happens to be smart.

It's absolutely _no wonder _that she hasn't got any friends.

I wish she would have just _stayed _kidnapped.

She made a mistake sending me this letter, though. Because if I were to show this to anyone… my mum, _her _mum… well, let's just say that it wouldn't be pretty and that Miss Rosie would be in seven shades of shit. To put it lightly. So she should just be careful if she wants to start running her mouth about what's going on. She can try and rat me out if she wants, but at least _I _wasn't stupid enough to put anything in writing…

The thing that pisses me off most about her little letter, though, is the part where she has the nerve to say that I _took advantage _of Meghan that night. Please. She has no idea. That girl was definitely _not _forced into anything she didn't want to do. Hell, I didn't even have to _coax _her really. I was just going to kiss her and maybe get in a quick grope or two… but she had different ideas. _She _was the one who wanted to take it further. _She's _the one who asked if she could see my room… So seriously, what was I supposed to do when she had her hand down my fucking jeans? I am a seventeen- wait, I'm eighteen now- _eighteen _year old boy. According to every bit of information I've ever read on the subject (admittedly a lot), this is my sexual prime. And Meghan Thomas is a very hot girl. So when she asked me if I thought she was pretty, I didn't even have to lie (my brother has good taste if nothing else). And she wasn't even _that _wasted. She was definitely awake and pretty much coherent. I even told her once that we ought to stop, but she was insistent and kept going on and on about how much she liked me. So who was I to deny her?

And do I regret it?

No. I don't. I don't know why I should be expected to regret it, either. My brother's had a million opportunities to make the move in on Meghan, and he hasn't taken any of them. And she _liked _it. And clearly she likes _me. _She just doesn't know me, though, doesn't know that that's not how I function. Pretty girls are everywhere, it takes a lot more than a pretty face to get my attention. The only girl who even comes close is Kate, and I'm pretty sure she hates me, too, considering I left her to go have a piss at my party and never returned. She didn't talk to me the rest of the time we were at school. I'm sure she knows that I got distracted by Meghan… but it's not like Kate and I are together or anything. I just think she's a cool girl who's alright to hang around and have a laugh with (and shag occasionally- or a lot).

But Meghan was good enough for the moment, and now I'm over it. And she will be, too. No harm, no foul. We both had a bit of fun, now we can both forget about it. If Al's got a problem with it, it's really not my fault. Maybe he should have told her how he felt, or _maybe _he shouldn't be such a pathetic little cunt and should just fucking grow a pair and make a move.

Still, though. It feels good to win.

Really good.

Teddy and Victoire are over for dinner, so we're being "normal" for the evening. This means that Mum and Dad aren't yelling at each other and that they're forcing Al and I to sit at the same dinner table. I don't know why we have to put on a show- I mean, it's not like they're strangers or anything. Vic's our cousin, and Teddy has practically grown up in this house. It's certainly not as if they don't know the _real _us. But still, we were all given strict orders to "act nicely" while we have "guests." This would be fine if it were people from the Ministry coming over or something, but Teddy and Victoire hardly need the edited version…

After dinner, everyone heads off in varied directions. Vic looks completely exhausted, and she quickly falls asleep on the sofa as Mum helps Lily learn how to properly give the baby her bottle. I don't know why this is hard, and I wasn't particularly aware that there was a "proper" way to do it… I mean, it's a screaming infant- stick the bottle in its gob and shut it the hell up. I will say this, though- the baby _is _pretty. I guess that's not too surprising, though, seeing as how it's got Veela blood and all (I guess even 1/16th Veela babies have that power shining through…). Still, though, Dora Jo is clearly more Metamorphagus than she is anything, and her hair changes from purple to bright red depending on how loud she's screaming at any given moment.

Teddy asks Dad for help on some coursework, and they go off to the study to look over it. Teddy should be completely done with all of his Auror training in April, and I'm sure he can't wait. It takes a long time to get through that Academy, especially now that the training is so specialized and focused. He hasn't gotten any special favors for being the Head's godson, either. In fact, he says the instructors seem to give him an even _more _difficult time because of it- I'm sure Dad put that into order to squash any sort of rumors or bad blood that might be fueled once his classmates realized who he was.

Do you know what's funny? People always ask me if I'm going to go to the Auror Academy when I graduate Hogwarts. They always seem to expect that to be my next step and seem to think it's just the natural direction I'd go. Well, I'm not. Number one, I don't have the grades to get into the Auror Academy, nor am I taking probably half the required NEWTs. Number two, Dad hasn't _once_ encouraged me to pursue that or even asked me if I'm interested. When Teddy was my age, they talked about it all the time, and true, Teddy didn't actually end up going until over two years later, but they were definitely discussing it that whole time. With me, though, Dad's never once said I should look into it and think about it. And whatever, it's cool. I mean, it's not like I'd _want _to get into a stuffy career like that anyway, but still. Last summer, when Al was working out his pre-OWL schedule, Dad asked _him _if _he _wanted to consider it…

But whatever. I don't _want _to be an Auror, so it's a pointless discussion.

I have one goal in life and _only _one goal. I don't have a backup or any otherplans because I don't _need _any. I want to play Quidditch, and that's _all_ I want. Quidditch is the only thing in the world that I like (well, the only thing that could potentially make me any sort of _legal _money), and I intend to make my entire career out of it. So that's why I don't care about anything else. There are scouts coming to the spring matches, and I can't wait to play for them and start signing contracts. I'll be lucky to even _make _it to NEWTs or graduation after I've put my name down on the dotted line.

And after that, life will be _cake._

I guess we're allowed to dispense now that Mum's on baby duty and Dad's on tutoring duty. I head upstairs to my room and find Al's door shut tightly as I pass it. Fifteen year old boys love to be in their rooms with their doors tightly shut, but he's not entirely normal and probably can't even find his own dick, so I doubt it's _that. _No, he's probably in there brooding and being miserable now that the love of his life has found something else. Not that it was ever going to happen anyway. Meghan made it pretty clear that night exactly how she feels and what she prefers…

"_You're so different from your brother…" _Thank god. _"He's so quiet and so shy…" _And such a pathetic prat. _"And you're so… confident." _Who wouldn't be with all of this? _"And that's really hot…"_

So, yeah. I mean, sorry for ya, mate, but your little lady love just isn't that into you…

I resist the urge to open the door and hex him (I'm of age, and he's not ha ha ha), and I bypass his room all together. Mine is right next door, and I slip in, shutting my own door just like his. It would seem so much more normal if there was loud music blaring from his den of angst, but there's not. Probably because he's _not _normal. But just because he's as fucking queer as a three-winged hypogriff doesn't mean that I have to be, so I turn my own music on full-blast and lay down to wait for the response. It will be only a matter of time before _someone _comes up and tells me to turn it down.

And… exactly nine minutes and thirty-six seconds later, I hear the pounding. Took them long enough. I don't respond, of course, because that's what we (the teenage species) do- _ignore everything. _Apparently, though, whoever is outside has never heard the meaning of privacy because my door swings open easily.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the brooding teenager." Teddy gets me _so_ well… He enters my room uninvited and immediately flicks his wand in the direction of my wireless, silencing it.

"And if it isn't the big family man," I retort back without missing a beat. "How is life now that you're tied down? _Forever?"_

"I've been tied down for almost two years." Teddy fist bumps me in this stupid little way that we've done for as long as I can remember before falling backwards onto my bed.

"Yeah, but now you've got a kid. Now you're _really _stuck." I turn my head and look at him as we lay side by side. "Now you've got no choice but to wake up with Vic every single day for the whole rest of your _life."_

"There are worse things to wake up to, I'm very sure."

He's probably right on that. I suppose that if you've got to be stuck with one girl forever that you should at least make sure it's a decent-looking one. He could do worse.

We're quiet for a few minutes, and then I'm struck with the insanity of the whole situation, and I snort. "I can't believe you've got a kid."

"God, fuck, I know," Teddy shakes his head and gives a shaky sort of laugh. "Mad, isn't it?"

"More than mad, mate," I say, shaking my own head. "Downright terrifying."

"You haven't got any girls knocked up, have you?" he turns his head and raises an eyebrow.

The idea is positively laughable, so I laugh. "Hell, no!" I say adamantly. And it's the truth. If there's one thing in the world that I'm good at, it's got to be preventing pregnancy. I have plenty of sex all the time but no babies. _Clearly, _I am a pro at contraceptives- it's the only charm I paid attention to and learnt properly in my entire Fifth Year.

Teddy nods his own affirmation. "Good," he says firmly. "Because the world is definitely not ready for you to reproduce."

"Excuse me," I say, leaning up on my elbows so that I can look down at him, "but you've got a kid with purple hair called _Dora Jo. _Don't talk to _me _about not reproducing…"

Teddy reaches up and slaps my chin lightly, pushing my head away. "You shut up. That's a beautiful name!"

"Yeah, if you're sixty maybe. Of course, she _does _already have purple hair…"

Teddy laughs and rolls his eyes as I flop back down to my back. We lay there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling. He's come up here to talk about what's going on with Al and me, I know that, but I try to avoid the inevitable as long as possible.

But, of course, that doesn't happen.

"So, what's up with your little brother trying to murder you?"

I make something between a laugh and a snort. Then I just shake my head. "He sucked at it is what's up. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but apparently you wouldn't've been if your mum hadn't saved your sorry arse."

"Look," I say firmly. "My mum didn't save _anything, _and no one can prove that she did."

Teddy laughs. "Sure, mate. Keep telling yourself that whenever you wake up from the nightmares about having his hands around your throat choking the very life out of you."

"Whatever." I shake my head and crack my neck. "You're a prick, you know that?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He laughs again. "So what did you do to him anyway?"

"I didn't do anything to him." I wrinkle my nose. "Well. Not really anyway."

"You cut him from the Quidditch team?"

I shrug. "Well, yeah. There's _that, _but…"

"And what else?" Teddy is staring at me with a cocked eyebrow. Fuck him for knowing me so well.

"And _maybe," _I go on pointedly, "_maybe _he's pissed off because this stupid girl he's lusting over likes me instead."

"_Likes _you, or you fucked her?"

"Teddy Lupin." I tsk my tongue and shake my head. "I cannot believe you would even suggest that."

"_James." _Teddy opens his mouth to say something, then he shuts it. After a long moment, he finally manages it. "Okay, seriously. _Why _would you do that?"

"Because he's a little fucking… _shit," _I struggle to find the right word to describe him. "And it was her idea anyway. Now he wants to be a little bitch about it. That's not my fault."

"Well, your dad's pretty pissed off."

"Oh, well, that's surprising," I answer sarcastically. "He's usually so pleased with me."

"Well, what do you expect?" Teddy sits up, and he's suddenly serious. "I mean, seriously, James, do you do that shit on purpose?"

"What?" I ask, completely nonchalantly. "Live up to his expectations of me being a fuck up? I just give him what he wants."

"You know, you're going to get yourself in real trouble one of these days. Sooner or later, that shit's going to backfire on you."

Teddy is lucky that he's one of about two people in my family that I actually like. Otherwise, I'd be a real dick right about now. He's got no right to lecture me, but I don't point this out because I know he thinks he's looking out for me. And I can't fault him for that. Instead, I just casually roll my eyes.

"Look, I don't give a shit what my dad thinks or what anyone thinks really. I know you think you should stand up for him because he's nice to you, but he's not nice to me. So I'm not going to pretend like I care that much."

"If you really feel that way about your dad, then maybe you should try proving him wrong. You know, if you think he expects you to constantly fuck up, then you should do something that proves him wrong."

Poor, pitiful, idealistic Teddy. Teddy _has _to take up for Dad because he feels like he owes him or something. I guess because Dad has always been there for him and has always taken care of him. And Teddy's an orphan, so I'm sure he thinks that I should be super thankful to have two parents, even if they are complete arseholes. But he's wrong, you know. There's no reason I should _have _to be thankful when they don't give me anything to be thankful for. I mean, nobody else understands what it's like to _constantly _be passed over in favor of your little brother. They love him so much and think he's so perfect. He's not even _close _to perfect, but they don't see that. All they see is that he's the most like Dad, so he _must _be better, right?

Whatever.

Teddy frowns at me, but then he changes the topic to Quidditch. I guess he doesn't want to listen to me badmouth his idol anymore. But yeah, whatever. I mean, it's cool. I can't fault Teddy for it, he's got no idea what it's like.

No one has any idea. So yeah. Whatever.

--

A/N: Okay, so I know people won't like him anymore now than they did before… but I've got a super, super soft-spot for James and I can't help it! Hate him if you must, though, just please review!!


	26. Rose, Insane?

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 26

**ROSE, INSANE?**

--

Hogwarts after Christmas is absolutely no different than Hogwarts _before _Christmas.

The classes are the same, the castle is the same, and the people are the same. Nothing has changed. Then again, nothing's really changed in the entire five years that I've been here.

Well, except that I used to have lots of friends and now I have none… That's a bit different.

I tried to make up with Al and get him talking to me again, but it's not working. I tried once at home, the last night of hols while we were over at Grandmum and Granddad's for dinner. I tried to talk to him, but he glared at me and literally walked away. I tried again on the train- I wrote him a note. I figured that if he wasn't going to speak to me that he could at least _read _what I had to say. But he didn't, he just ripped it up into little pieces and dropped them all on the floor.

So I don't know what else to do.

It's driving me mad, not talking to him. We've never _not talked. _And now I'm pretty sure that he hates me. Which is fantastic, let me tell you. Ugh. It's just so frustrating to know that he's so mad at me that he won't even speak to me or acknowledge me at all. I didn't _mean _for this to happen and for him to find out about James and Meghan like that. I know I should have told him, but, at the same time, it really wasn't my _place _to tell him. And I didn't know _how. _

And I _hate _that he's so mad at me now.

This is all James's fault. Not that _that's_ surprising, of course, considering the fact that nearly everything awful is _always _his fault. But this is all his fault for screwing things up so badly and getting me stuck in the middle of all of it. I just want to fucking talk to the one person in the world that I trust, and because of his stupid brother, I can't.

It's not fair.

And to make matters a million times worse, I've now decided that the only way to cure myself of thinking about Scorpius Malfoy is to convince myself through pathological lying that I hate him. And so I find myself being a bitch to him whenever he happens to speak to me (which is not often, considering the fact that I treat him like shit whenever he does). Yes, yes, I know. I'm a horrible person and blah blah blah. But you don't understand.

It's _Scorpius Malfoy._

I will not like him. I won't. And why would I anyway? I mean, yeah, so he's sort of cute, but lots of boys are sort of cute. He's _weird. _And everyone would just look at me like I was just as weird for liking him. And I already have enough trouble holding onto friends as it is (considering the fact that I presently haven't got any…). So I don't really need any help in the social suicide department, thanks.

I'm stuck in Potions with Allen as my partner- yes, I really _am _that desperate. He keeps staring at me, and it's starting to freak me out. I don't know why he he's so obsessed with me, but it's bloody annoying, and he'll be lucky if I don't hex his balls off if he doesn't stop looking at me that way. I try to ignore him and just work on the list of ingredients I need for my sleeping drought. I'd rather _be _asleep than be doing this, but I have to pay careful attention to everything this year. I haven't been studying like I should for my OWLs, and I _have _to do well on them.

We have to design these recipes- take the traditional one and tweak it a bit- and I get stuck trying to decide between adding daffodil or lilac. I lean back in my chair and chew absently on the end of my quill. I wish it was a Sugar Quill… _Focus, Rose, focus. _You'd think I'd be able to make easy decisions about flowers, wouldn't you? Seeing as how I'm freaking _named _for one. Ooooh, maybe I should use rose instead…

Fuck. I hate potions.

I look up out of instinct and find that Allen isn't the only person looking at me. Scorpius seems distracted from his potion as well, seeing as how he's _staring _at me. I feel my cheeks heat up and curse (for the billionth time in my life) the stupid Weasley blush. Hoping to cut it short, I narrow my eyes and scowl at him.

_Look away, Slytherin Boy, look away._

He does.

I hear someone giggle behind me, and I turn around to see Elisabeth whispering something to JD as they apparently witness the mini-eye exchange between Scorpius and me. Now they're laughing about it. For fuck's _sake, _would people stop looking at me? I glare at them but snap my head back around to the front when I hear Professor Montague doling out his daily dose of hatred for me.

"Miss Weasley, would you mind sharing what you find so entertaining in the back of the classroom that you feel it appropriate to distract your fellow classmates by turning 'round in your seat?"

His voice is evil and full of contempt, and I twist my fist into a tight ball to keep from throwing a hex at him. I hate him so much.

Knowing, of course, that I can't cause anymore trouble with him, I just glower and mutter, "Sorry," so lowly that I'm not sure he can hear me.

"Fifteen points from Gryffindor," he sneers, and when I meet his eyes in protest, he just smirks. I don't say anything.

I don't have to look up to know that all of my housemates are glaring at me. When I _do _sneak a sideways glance, it's all confirmed. They all hate me anyway, though, so what difference does a new reason make? Meghan is the only one not scowling at me directly, but that's because her face has been set into a permanent state of scowl ever since we returned from break. I heard her telling Susie and Elisabeth that she's upset because James is ignoring her and won't even acknowledge her. They, of course, said they weren't surprised and sneered at _me _as if I've got anything at all to do with it.

Idiots.

Of course, I feel someone else staring at me from the other side of the room, and I know without looking that it's Scorpius. I look against my own will (damn automatic reactions), and I'm surprised to see that he looks really sorry for me. He's giving me this sympathetic look, and when I meet his eyes, he even offers me a sort of weak smile. _Why _is he like that? I just gave him the meanest look possible two minutes ago _and _I've been avoiding him like the plague. And yet, he's still the only person in the whole class who seems to think that Montague's vendetta against me is completely unfounded.

Figures.

The minutes tick by slowly, and class finally lets out. I leave Allen to fill up a vile "our" potion and turn it in, and I pack up my things to hurry away. As I climb the stone stairs back up to the main part of the castle, I start wrapping my scarf tightly around my neck and pulling on my gloves. There's a brief break before Transfiguration starts, and I suddenly have the desire for fresh air. I hear all of my classmates hurrying up the stairs behind me, but I don't look back for any of them.

There's an exit from the castle just off the main stairwell, and I push open the heavy door and hurry out into the sunlight. Despite the fact that the sun is shining brightly, the air is freezing, and the wind is ridiculous. My hair whips around my face, and I have to constantly shove it away as I walk away from the castle.

"Rose!"

Fuck. I turn my head just briefly to see (of course) Scorpius hurrying after me. He hasn't got his cloak, much less a scarf or gloves. He's simply got his normal school clothes on, and I wonder what could possibly be so important that he'd be willing to freeze his bollocks off for.

I don't slow down, but he catches up with me anyway, and he quickly falls into step with me. "I called your name on the stairs," he says breathlessly.

"It was noisy," I answer flatly, refusing to look at him.

He takes this as an answer, whether he believes it or not. "Montague's an arse," he says helpfully.

"Well, luckily he doesn't hate everyone. Only me."

"It's not fair."

"What are you doing out here anyway?" I snap. "It's freezing, and you haven't even got a cloak."

I can see him shrug. "I'm okay."

"Well, I'm sort of busy. So if you don't mind, I'd really like to be left alone."

"Oh." I can tell by his voice that he's completely dejected and disappointed. "Okay. Sorry."

I should just let it go, but I can't. I open my mouth and start talking before I can stop myself. "And stop following me. It's weird."

"Why are you being so mean?" Scorpius stops walking, and instead of taking that as a chance to escape, I have to stop as well and turn around to answer his question.

"Because I _am _mean," I snap. "I'm a mean person. That's why everyone hates me."

"I don't hate you." He says it so quietly that I'm not even sure that I hear him correctly, but I can tell by the way he's studying the ground so intently that I didn't mishear.

I don't know what to say for a second, but then I get my wits back around me. "Well, you should. Because I'm a bitch."

"I don't think so…"

Damn it. Fuck him. "God, Malfoy, just leave me alone!"

"Fine, I just thought…"

"You thought what?" I demand, and I know I'm being way, _way _too harsh but I can't help it.

Scorpius looks up at me then, and I realize that this is the most color I've ever seen in his face. The wind has turned his cheeks pink, and it makes his eyes an even shinier sort of gray than usual. He doesn't answer my question directly; instead, he sort of stutters and finally manages to say, "You haven't spoken to me since before Christmas…"

"Then maybe you should take the hint."

His feelings are hurt. That much is obvious by the way he immediately looks away and ducks his head. His impossibly blonde hair falls into his eyes, and he doesn't brush it away. After a second, he finally mutters, "I thought we were friends…"

"_Why?" _I ask. Cruelly. Hatefully. _"Why _would you think that?! Because I help you with your homework now and then?! That doesn't make us friends!"

"You kissed me."

He says it so plainly that I'm nearly shocked by the fact that I hear it so clearly. He's looking at me again, and those stupid eyes are staring into mine so intently that I'm almost a little bit afraid. I try to hold his gaze without faltering, but it's too much, and I wonder if he knows how powerful those eyes are.

Forcing myself _not _to think about the way kissing him felt, I stumble around for an excuse. "I was _drunk," _I reply coldly. "The only reason I kissed you in the first place was to piss my parents off. But they're not going to find out anyway, so whatever."

"But-"

I don't let him get a reply in. "Sorry if you got the wrong idea. I mean, I know it was probably the first time a girl's ever kissed you, but that's all it was. _A kiss. _And I was drunk." He looks positively wounded, and just because I'm sadistic apparently, I get one final blow in. "I've never kissed you sober for a reason."

Oh. My. God.

I am such a _bitch. _I even hate myself. No wonder everyone else does.

It's no fun picking on Scorpius Malfoy. He looks like a little puppy that's just been kicked. He's never done anything to anyone, and yet he's always had a rough time at school. And here I am making it even _worse._

But I can't let that matter.

He doesn't say anything, just stares at me with that poor wounded look, and I wonder for a second if he might start crying. "So…" He seems lost. "So just because you were drunk… and because you wanted to piss your parents off?" He speaks very slowly and deliberately, clearly wanting me to explain.

Fine.

"Yes," I say briskly, shoving hair out of my face as it blows all around me. "In case you weren't aware, my parents hate your father more than anyone else on the planet. So when I was drunk and mad at them it seemed like a good idea."

It's so bloody _cold._

Scorpius doesn't say anything. I don't know what I expect him to say. He just sort of stands there, and I know he feels like an idiot. I know that _I'm _the one who made him feel that way. I don't know what's wrong with me.

"So, yeah," I finally say, breaking the awkward silence and trying to put some sort of normalcy into my tone. "Sorry."

It's a lame explanation and an even lamer apology. But I don't know what else to say or do. I don't want him to know how much he affects me, and denial is clearly a very effective coping mechanism. So I go with it.

"I have to go to class," he eventually mumbles, and his eyes are dropped back to the ground. He doesn't wait for me to reply before turning away and hurrying away. I watch him go, watch the wind blow his hair around his head and watch him tuck his arms around himself to keep out the cold.

Fuck, fuck, fuck me, _fuck._

There is absolutely _no _reason to be such a bitch to him. He hasn't done anything to me, and he doesn't deserve it. But I don't know why I can't help it. I've got to be the worst person on the whole effing planet.

Oh my god, I just want to go to bed. I hate this whole day. Who am I kidding? I hate this whole _year. _And for the first time in my entire life, I make the decision to skive off class.

I hurry back to the castle and up to Gryffindor Tower before I have a chance to convince myself otherwise. I'm not an advocate of skipping classes, especially not now with OWLs only a few months away, but I can't even fathom heading off to Transfiguration and sitting through an entire class with all those people who hate me.

It's weird, opening up the door to my dormitory, to be up here like this without permission in the middle of the day. The whole Tower is quiet, signifying its emptiness, and I can't help but feel a bit nervous. The door to Neville's office was closed when I passed through the Common Room, but that doesn't mean that he won't show up unannounced. Hopefully if he _does _return, he won't feel the need to run an impromptu check on the Fifth Year Girls' room.

The house-elves have already been in and cleaned. The beds are all neatly made, and the room is free of dust and dirt. It's still consumed with its normal clutter, though, and I look around, trying to remember when we all got so much stuff. When we were eleven, our room was filled with clothes and schoolbooks. Now, though, the clothes are multiplied by ten, and the books are much less obvious. In addition, there're make-up and hair products littering every extra inch of table space. There are magazines stacked in all the corners, and the walls are lined with pictures of famous (hot) Quidditch players and musicians.

Susie's bed is the farthest from the door, and while it's covered in the traditional scarlet and gold bedding, she has her own personal touches on it as well. A purple laced pillow is thrown carelessly on the head, and a Slytherin scarf is tied loosely around one of the posts- Justin's, of course.

I take my own scarf off and toss it onto my bed as I glance at Meghan's bed next. She's the only one of us who has any real Muggle interests, and she's got an unmoving poster of some Muggle football player hanging over her bed. She's tried to explain the game to us a million times (her dad's apparently obsessed), but none of us even really like _Quidditch, _so it's sort of hard for us to get enthusiastic about any other sports- especially ones we'll never even see.

Elisabeth's bed is closest to mine. It's been this way forever, seeing as how we've always been best friends- up until the part where I started dating her ex-boyfriend anyway. Her bedside table is literally _covered _with pictures of her family. She always has the worst time being away from home because she's extremely close to her parents and her siblings (all of whom are younger and not yet old enough for school).

My bed is the plainest. I don't have any pictures of my family up, and I don't follow any strange sport enough to litter my walls with it. Nor, of course, do I have a cute Slytherin boyfriend who will give me his scarf. Ugh. I don't even like the way thinking that thought makes me _feel. _It reminds me, of course, of Scorpius and the fact that I'm such a total bitch. Seriously, I don't know what my problem is.

I don't think I'm crazy. Not really anyway. I've never actually thought, in all my years of therapy, that I'm actually seriously mad. I believe what they say about being brainwashed (or at least I do to an extent), and I believe what Melda says about me having trouble admitting reality to myself sometimes. However, I don't actually think that I have some sort of serious mental disorder.

Or at least I never did until now.

Now, I have absolutely _no _excuse for my behavior. Now, I'm just being a bitch for absolutely no reason. So maybe I really _am _insane…

I wish that I hated Scorpius in the same way that my parents hate his dad. I don't know all the details of that, besides, of course, the fact that if they ever speak his name, it's full of contempt and disgust. I've never actually met Mr. Malfoy, so I've no idea what's so awful about him. I've seen him, of course, whenever he's dropped Scorpius off at the train or picked him up. He doesn't _look _evil, he _looks _exactly like Scorpius- only older and with slightly less hair. I don't see what could possibly be so bad about him. I know that Dad said he used to call Mum the "M Word" a lot, but surely there had to be something else to make them all hate each other so much. Whenever he _does _show up to the station, my parents always glare in his direction, and he always looks back with the same sort of mirrored gaze. I personally think they're all well-past the age of petty school rivalries and should just get over it.

But still.

Life would be so much easier if I had a reason to hate Scorpius. Then I could justify my behavior. But I can't. I treat him like shit because I can, I guess. That's the only logical explanation I can come up with. He's weak, and I know it. He won't fight back, and so it's easy for me to take all of my anger and frustration out on him- even though it's all really aimed at other people. Wow. Maybe I don't even _need _Melda anymore. I'm getting pretty good at analyzing myself.

Now if only I believed it…

--

A/N: Thanks everyone who has been reviewing, it really means a lot! Also, I just want to assure everyone that there will be _no _unplanned, teenage pregnancy in this story. James really _is _that good at protecting himself. So don't worry. I'm strongly in the camp of sex doesn't always equal babies! Haha, thanks again, and please keep reviewing!


	27. Al, Hatred

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 27

**AL, HATRED**

--

I hate being a Prefect.

I really, truly _hate _it.

I didn't _love _it before, but it's only gotten worse since we've been back from Christmas. Now I absolutely dread every single time I've got to do anything related to Prefect duties. This is, of course, because Meghan is always there.

And I can't stand to even look at her.

I know this isn't entirely fair, considering the fact that Meghan probably had little to nothing to do with anything that happened between her and James. I mean, obviously she was there. But I'm very, very positive that he tricked her and took advantage of her. So, no, I don't particularly blame her. But still. I can't look at her the same way. I mean, she clearly enjoyed it regardless of whose idea it was, at least according to the letter she wrote him.

Of course, now she's positively miserable, that much is clear. She walks around moping everywhere, and it's very obvious that she's not as happy as she probably expected to be when she returned to school. James is ignoring her, at least as far as I can tell. He doesn't acknowledge her now anymore than he did before, and I guess that must sting for her, considering the fact that she apparently believed him when he told her whatever lies he had to make up to get her into bed.

But she should have known better.

I don't see how anyone in this school could honestly believe anything that comes out of my brother's mouth- definitely not enough to get their feelings hurt over it anyway. James is a _liar. _He lies and he cheats and he does whatever he has to do to get whatever he wants. And, crazily, he always _does _get whatever he wants. He gets whatever he wants out of our parents, he gets whatever he wants out of teachers, and he gets whatever he wants out of all the girls at this school. They're all so _ridiculous, _always falling prey to him and believing everything he says. Even though they should know, of course, that he won't treat them any differently than he's treated any of their friends and classmates.

He is _evil._

Too bad Meghan had to find out the hard way…

She isn't talking too much as we make our normal Tuesday night rounds. Of course, I'm not talking a lot, either, mostly because I'm afraid of what I'll say. She is being her usual mopey self, and I can tell that she's not even paying attention to what we're doing. Not that I am, either, obviously, but that's not so different from how we normally are. We're sort of shit when it comes to being Prefects because we both let way, _way _too much slip by. But I guess that has to do a lot with the fact that neither of us were exactly thrilled to be handed these duties in the first place. We're certainly not the over-eager brown-nosing sort of types that make up the majority of the Prefects in this school.

I can't help but feel a bit sorry for her, despite the fact that she all but broke my heart. I know how lame that sounds, but it's also the truth. I've never liked anyone the way I like her, and she apparently doesn't even know. She certainly doesn't share the same opinion. If she shared even a fraction of it, she wouldn't have fallen for my brother's stupid tricks.

There's not even any small talk to distract us as we walk up and down the corridors. Occasionally, one of us will comment on something, but there's usually no more than a one or two word response. It's awkward, and it's irritating. And, of course, it's completely James's fault.

Finally, after an entire hour of strained silence has followed us through the whole castle, we find ourselves walking up the winding steps toward Gryffindor Tower. We're going slowly, and I wonder why I can't seem to make my feet move anymore quickly.

"Are you mad at me?" Meghan's voice sounds strained and maybe even a bit nervous as she poses her question. She's trailing her fingers against the wall as we walk, tracing invisible lines in the stone.

I don't know what to say. I don't know whether to tell her the truth and admit that, yes, I actually am quite mad. Or if I should just pretend like I don't know what she's talking about and shrug it off.

Truthfully, I don't even know if I'm actually mad at _her. _I'm definitely angry at the situation. Maybe angrier than I've ever been at anything in my whole life. But is it directed at her? I don't know. I suppose some of it is at least, though I'm infinitely _more _angry at my brother. _He's _the one to blame, I've no doubt about that.

In the end, I decide against saying all of this out loud, so I simply shrug and say nothing. The stairs seem to stretch endlessly in front of us, and I wonder if perhaps we're on the wrong staircase, if it's moved and we're really headed toward the Astronomy Tower or one of the other highest points.

Meghan, though, apparently reads my silence as something else because she doesn't leave it alone. "He told you, didn't he?"

Play dumb. I avoid her eye and shrug again. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"James," she says firmly, her voice no longer hesitant at all. "He told you about us, didn't he?"

I swallow the words I really want to say and struggle to keep my face as stony as possible. I don't want her to see anything there or find anything that she might be able to twist and make assumptions with. I just shrug yet again and say, "It's none of my business."

I hear what almost sounds like an exasperated sigh, and I can't help the quick glance that my eyes take of her. She looks miserable, and I almost feel the tiniest bit sorry for her. But then I remember that she ripped my heart out, and I don't.

"He doesn't speak to me, you know," she says pointedly. "He completely ignores me."

I keep walking, forcing one foot in front of the other up the never-ending stairs.

"It's like he doesn't even remember."

I wish she'd just stop talking. I grow irritated and finally mutter some icy words. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Meghan," I say edgily. "He treats every girl like that."

She doesn't respond right away. I've probably hurt her feelings, and I know it. But I don't know what she wants from me. Does she expect that I'm going to shower her with sympathy or make apologies for James? I won't do either. I don't have a lot of sympathy for her, and I'm not apologizing for anything that my brother might do. I shouldn't have to, either. He is an adult, he should be responsible for his own actions.

We walk along further. Seriously, _when _are these stairs going to end. Finally, though, Meghan speaks up, and her voice sounds strangely confident, a far cry from the nervous tone she used not fifteen seconds ago.

"I can't believe you're even related to him."

I roll my eyes, keeping my head ducked and trying to ignore the way she smells so nice as she walks beside me. "Me, either," I mutter ruefully. It's true, too. We are as far opposites as it is possible to be probably. It's weird and strange, and I wonder every single day how it could even be possible that we share the same parents and were raised in the same home. If we didn't both have such striking family resemblances, I'd swear that one of us was adopted.

"I like you much better."

Normally, her words would send my mind racing and pulse speeding. But what else could she say? I have never slept with her and then refused to speak to her. I've never even kissed her. All I've ever done was be her friend, someone she talks to and hangs out with but is very obviously not attracted to. So, no, her words don't please me too much. Instead, I just scowl.

"What did he say about me?"

God, I wish she would just _shut up. _I don't know what she wants. I doubt she wants the truth- not unless she's a masochist anyway. I doubt she wants me to tell her that he gloated about it and let me read the personal letter she wrote him. I doubt she wants to know that the only reason he ever even _spoke _to her in the first place was to get back at me. I doubt she wants to know any of it, but I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying _all _of it.

It feels weird admitting it, but a part of me _does _want to hurt her. Where I'm angry at James, I'm far more hurt by her… I don't want to admit it, of course, because that makes me sound incredibly, _incredibly _stupid. But what else am I supposed to do? I'm so fucking _tired _of hiding this shit from her. It's not fair.

"He didn't say anything," I finally answer acidly. "Except that I could have you now and that I should thank him later for breaking you in."

I regret the words the second they're out of my mouth. I know how mean it sounds, how incredibly _awful _it must make her feel. I don't know why I said it. I didn't _really _want to hurt her. At least I don't think so…

She stops walking, halting herself dead in her tracks. I don't stop, I keep climbing the stairs, but I do slow down just a bit. I want to take it back. But I can't. I can't do anything. I can't even look at her because I know I've just hurt her in the worst possible way, not to mention the fact that I've just given away all my _own _secrets.

I don't know whether to be more ashamed of myself or more humiliated that I just all but admitted everything I've been trying to hide from her for years.

A muffled sob comes from somewhere below, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to run back and comfort her. I don't know how I'd be able to anyway, considering the fact that I'm more than fairly positive that I won't ever be able to look her in the face again.

But in the end, I can't help it. My natural instinct isn't to be a bastard to people. So I stop and turn around, going back down the few steps to her as slowly as possible. She's leaning against the wall with her hands covering her face. She isn't sobbing or even really making any noise at all, besides the ragged breaths that she's obviously fighting to control. She won't look at me, so I just stop across from her and look at her.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, swallowing the urge to say anything else. "I shouldn't have told you that."

She says nothing. She just continues to stand there with her face hidden in her hands and her shoulders shaking slightly.

"Meghan…" I say quietly, trying to keep everything together. "Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asks suddenly, and when she looks up at me, her eyes are blood-red and strained.

"Tell you what?" I ask timidly, though obviously I know fully well what she's talking about.

"Is that why he…" she trails off and shakes her head. "Because you?... That's why he…."

I don't say anything. My heart feels like it's about to beat out of my chest, and I suddenly have the urge to run as far away as possible and hide. This isn't at all how I've ever envisioned this conversation finally taking place. It's awful.

When I don't answer, she decides to read the look on my face and then starts crying.

Great.

I don't know what to do with crying girls. I never have. The only girl I'm even remotely comfortable around anyway is Rose, and I can't even handle it when _she _cries. Not that it matters now anyway, considering the fact that I hold more of a grudge against her than I do James _or _Meghan. And I know it's not fair. I know she couldn't have done anything to stop them. But she should have _told _me. She should have told me and saved me from having to hear it from _him. _Rose is the only person in the world I've ever trusted indefinitely, and she kept the biggest secret imaginable from me.

And I don't know that I can forgive that.

Meghan continues to cry, and tears start dripping down her cheeks. I contemplate leaving her there and just going back to the Common Room. After all, what business is it of mine if she stands there crying? She deserves to cry. Doesn't she?

But, of course, I can't do that. I can't be that mean, even if I secretly want to be.

"Meghan, I'm sorry," I say again, breathing in through my nose and keeping as far back as I can, which isn't easy in such a small space as the stairwell.

"Do you hate me?" she asks, hissing in a sharp breath as she wipes furiously at her wet eyes.

"No," I say honestly, "of course not."

She doesn't say anything back right away, just keeps crying. Finally, she shakes her head and inhales through her mouth. "I didn't know," she says quietly, and she looks straight at me. Her eyes are impossibly beautiful, wide and deep brown- the color of dark chocolate. They set the rest of her face off perfectly.

Stop.

I won't stand here and be distracted by her. It's all out there now, and there's nothing I can do about it. I won't let something as simple as her eyes take me away from exactly what she needs to know.

"It doesn't matter," I say quietly. "I'm sorry he hurt you."

Didn't I just tell myself that I wasn't going to make apologies for him? What should it matter? He's nothing to me. We share a bloodline, that's it. We don't share anything else. I shouldn't have to apologize for him.

But I can't help it because she just looks so _sad _and even sort of helpless.

Why didn't she just pick me instead? I never would have done that to her. I wouldn't have pushed her, and I certainly wouldn't have ignored her afterwards. If she had just picked me, then everything would be different. Everything would be okay. It would be _better._

But she didn't pick me.

And now she's standing in the stairwell crying her eyes out, and I feel ridiculously responsible and guilty. It isn't fair. _I _don't have anything to be guilty about.

"You should have told me," she whispers, and it sort of sounds as though she's probing to me that I _should _feel guilty, though about what I've no idea. "If you had told me…"

"Then what?" I ask suddenly. I don't want to feel guilty for something I had no part in. I won't let her _make _me feel guilty. "Nothing would have changed."

"I wouldn't have done it." Her voice is stronger now, a bit more stable. She sounds serious and determined.

"Why not?" I challenge. "Because you would have known we would fight over it? We would have found something else to fight over."

But Meghan just shakes her head. "No," she whispers. Her previously strong, confident voice has been replaced with that of a timid little girl's. She sounds strangely nervous but still determined. "If I'd have known… I would have waited for you…"

It takes me probably fifteen seconds to fully comprehend her words. Surely she didn't just actually say that. I look up at her in shock, and I see it written all over her face. It's right there in front of me. She was being serious. She looks embarrassed and a tiny bit frightened, but I think she's probably refusing to break eye contact with me.

So I give in first.

I look away from her, my mind racing with this entire conversation. It's so, so, _so _wrong. How can she just stand there and _say _all of this? Doesn't she realize how unfair that is to me? Like I haven't got the shit end of this deal anyway? Now I have to listen to her stand there and throwing _ifs _at me.

I open my mouth to tell her exactly where I think she could go, but the words get muffled as something cuts them off. I realize all too quickly that it's her _lips_ and that they are pressed against _mine _and that she is _kissing _me.

Meghan Thomas is _kissing _me.

Any and all other thoughts go flying from my head faster than I can even comprehend. I don't _want _to think about anything else. This is all I've wanted for forever, and it's finally happening.

I kiss her back, and that only serves to give her more courage. It's not the soft, sweet first kiss I've always imagined. No, it's rough and hard, and there's nothing at all innocent and sweet about it. Her mouth tastes like the pumpkin juice that she had at dinner, and it's better than anything else has ever been. There aren't even any words to describe it, so I just don't even try.

I just keep kissing her.

Finally, though, we're forced to break apart because, of course, we need to breathe. I can't catch my breath right away, and Meghan looks to be experiencing much the same issue. Her eyes are even darker now than normal, and I envy her dark skin for a moment because it hides the embarrassing blush that my own cheeks are undoubtedly shining with. She looks at me pointedly, like she's waiting for _me _to say something.

But I can't say anything.

I don't know what to say, and I don't _want _to say anything. So I just stare at her.

But when she takes a step toward me, I take my own step backwards. My back hits the wall behind me, but I don't register it. Meghan is staring at me curiously, obviously wondering what I could possibly be thinking and why I'm running away from her.

When she takes another step toward me, I immediately go up to the next stair.

"What's wrong?" she asks quietly, and I know she's worried.

But I just shake my head. I don't want to say it. But then it's like I can't control myself.

"Don't touch me," I mutter as she, too, climbs up to the next stair. She blinks at me, her face is nothing but confusion. I don't think I've ever liked it _less, _and I have no idea why.

"Al-"

"Seriously," I say, moving away again. "Don't."

And then I head up the stairs as quickly as possible. When I finally make it to the Common Room, I head straight up to the dormitory and pull the curtains tightly around my bed. I don't even know what's going on. I don't know what changed or why I said that or… _anything._

All I know is that I hate Meghan Thomas.

--

A/N: So there it is… I'm sorry for the delay, but I couldn't get the Cullen girls out of my head, so I had to write that before I could do anything else! Now I can't get Edward and Bella out, but I'm trying to resist… Oh, I wish it was Saturday already! Anyway, thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think!


	28. James, New Developments

LESSONS LEARNED  
Chapter 28

**JAMES, NEW DEVELOPMENTS**

--

A pathetic, insensitive, horrid _dog._

Those were the exact words that came out of Kate's mouth as she told me exactly how she felt about me. I, of course, just stood there and tried not to smile as she went into a full-out rant about how selfish I am and how I think only of myself all the time. She told me that I'm the worst person she's ever had the displeasure of meeting and that if I didn't end up in prison that I would undoubtedly end up alone and miserable. Now, I don't think she's right. Maybe I might end up alone (by choice), but I highly, _highly _doubt that I'll be in prison anytime soon. There _are _some perks to being a Potter after all. But that didn't stop Kate from being furious, so she ranted and ranted and ranted.

And then, of course, she pushed me down onto the changing bench and climbed on top of me.

And that was something new- shagging in the Quidditch changing rooms. I don't even know why she was down there, but it was fun, of course. And it's always better when Kate's pissed off about something. It makes her absolutely crazy, which, of course, I enjoy immensely.

She really is the best thing around here, and I don't even bother denying it. I do sometimes provoke her on purpose, though, just to watch her eyes flash as she gets angry and rages at me. It's dead sexy.

We were arguing (or rather _she _was arguing) about the fact that I have absolutely no conscience whatsoever and about what a bastard I am. I don't know where she heard the story about Meghan Thomas, but apparently it's common knowledge around school now- including the reasons behind it. Kate seems to think that this makes me a horrible person. Oh, well, she's probably right.

But that didn't stop her not being able to control herself around me.

Of course, afterwards, I literally had to _beg _for her help with Transfiguration. She wasn't too eager to agree to helping me, but she finally gave in after some well-placed persuasion techniques. It was almost too easy. If I weren't such a- what was it again- pathetic insensitive horrid _dog, _I might have felt bad.

And now that we're in the library working on revising for the upcoming test, I can't help but be a bit distracted around her. It isn't her fault, of course, it's mine for being so damn mesmerized by her. She's very distracting.

"Would you stop staring at me and focus?" she snaps without bothering to look up from the text she's currently studying.

"Can't I do both?"

Kate rolls her eyes. "Maybe if you had the attention span of more than a flobberworm, but seeing as how you _don't, _then no."

Ouch. "You're awfully mean to people who try to pay you compliments, do you know that?"

"Oh, you staring at my tits, that's a compliment, is it?" She finally looks up and fixes me with a very pointed stare.

She's trying to intimidate me, but, of course, it doesn't work. I just shrug nonchalantly. "Most girls would take it as one."

Her wide blue eyes immediately narrow at my words. "Well, I'm not one of your so-called _most girls," _she says bitingly. "You need to keep your eyes in your fucking head."

My own eyes go wide with amusement, and I lose the fight to keep the smirk from my face. "Come on now, it's not like I've never seen them before."

"Yeah, and _that _was a mistake." She gives me another withering look and turns her eyes back to her book.

I don't let it go, of course. "You always say that. And yet… you never mean it."

"Well, I do now!" she snaps, whipping her head back up to look at me. She slams her book shut. "I'm not helping you with this, you're impossible."

"Good," I say seriously. "Because I really don't give a shit about Transfiguration…"

"Seriously, James, how could you do that to that poor girl?"

Oh, _god. _I roll my eyes. "You're not on about _that _again, are you?" I'm so fucking sick of that conversation.

"Yes, I am," she hisses. "You treat all the girls in this school like they're worthless pieces of shit!"

"_Shhhhh!" _We both look up as Madame Laurence glares in our direction from her desk across the room.

Kate lowers her voice. "You're so disgusting!"

I just shake my head, though. "I've never treated _you _like shit," I point out fairly. And it's the truth. I never have.

Kate laughs a cruel sort of laugh. "You do all the time."

I don't, either. I don't even know what she's talking about. "Oh, come off it," I whisper back. "You know you're the only girl in this whole school I can seriously tolerate or care about at all."

She stops for a second and stares at me intently, sort of like she's trying to figure something out. It makes me uncomfortable. "Prove it," she finally **says**, her eyes are locked on mine and her face is still set in a slightly angry scowl.

"How?" I'm sure I probably don't want to know the answer.

"Stop fucking the rest of them."

_What? _She's not serious. I actually snort at her suggestion.

"I knew it," she breathes, her voice is dripping with disgust. "You're such a pig."

She stands up then and starts shoving books into her bag. I grab her wrist, and, of course, I've no idea why I do it. "Wait," I say quickly. _Shut up. _Great, when has my mouth ever listened to my brain? I tug her back down until she falls into her chair again. "What are you talking about? You want to be my _girlfriend?" _The word sounds like dirtiest of swears coming off my tongue.

But Kate doesn't laugh or roll her eyes or anything of the things I _want _her to do. Instead, she just stares at me, her face as serious as I've ever seen it. Oh, holy fucking _god. _She isn't serious. She _can't _be.

A stunned silence follows, and finally she breaks it, twisting angrily in her seat. Okay, I can deal with _this. _I can handle her when she's pissed off much better than I can when she's _serious._

"Why do you say that like it's such a bad thing?" she demands.

Okay, maybe I was wrong about handling this one better.

"Kate," I say, still totally shocked. "_Why _would you want that?"

She glares at me. "Because I'm sick of getting fucked around," she snaps. "_I'm _not shagging anyone but _you."_

The implications of her statement hang awkwardly in the air. I open my mouth and close it several times, truly at a loss for words. She looks at me expectantly, clearly waiting for me to say something I've no clue about. When I say nothing, she grabs her bag and stands up again.

"Just forget about it," she hisses. "I'm so over this."

"Would you just fucking tell me if that's what you really want?" I blurt out. I try to make myself shut up, but, of course, it doesn't work. At least it gets her to stop.

"What I want," she says lowly and (overwhelmingly) dangerously, "is for you to grow up. We're about to _graduate."_

"What's that got to do with anything?"

She rolls her eyes and looks so exasperated that I think she might tug her hair. "We've been playing this stupid game for years, and you're the only one having fun!"

She always _looks _like she's having fun…

She obviously reads that on my face because her eyes fall a little bit, and she suddenly doesn't look angry anymore. She looks… well… _hurt. _"James," she says quietly, "I'm sick of just being one of your options."

I don't know what to say. I just stare at her, clearly completely dumbfounded. How did this conversation even end up here? Kate and I don't talk about this. She isn't that type of girl who needs constant validation or anything like that. My head starts spinning a little bit. There's absolutely no reason for me to be dizzy.

"I'd be the worst boyfriend in the history of the world," I finally say. And it's with completely seriousness, too, because it's _true. _I can't possibly imagine someone worse off than me when it comes to trying to do… _relationships._

Luckily, I fight the urge to shudder.

"I'm not doing this anymore," she says seriously, all traces of anger now gone from her voice.

"Kate-"

"James, I'm serious," she cuts me off. "This is it."

I stare at her. Stunned doesn't even _begin _to express what I'm feeling. How did this even happen? I don't know why she's even entertaining the notion. She _knows _me.

When I don't say anything, she decides to take that as a hint, and she turns around to walk away. My brain screams to just let her go, but my mouth's habit of speaking out of turn kicks in again.

"Okay, I'll stop!" I blurt out.

Kate stops and turns back around to look at me suspiciously. The moment of silence that passes probably only spans a couple of seconds, but it seems like an eternity.

"Stop what?" she finally asks.

I try to bite my tongue and stop the words from coming, but it's useless. "Other girls," I finally spit out.

Oh, _fuck. _What am I _doing?_

Kate doesn't seem like she believes me right away, and I can't blame her for that. _I _don't even believe me. My subconscious must need her a lot more than I ever realized or something because otherwise I can't imagine why I'd agree to give up _all _other girls for _one _girl.

Even if it _is _Kate Milton.

"Seriously?" she asks quietly, and she drops back into the chair beside mine and looks at me intently.

I swallow the lump that's suddenly appeared in my throat and nod awkwardly. "Sure," I choke out.

And then she smiles. Her eyes go back to their normal beautiful wide shape, and her lips curl over perfectly white teeth. "Thank you," she says quietly.

And I feel positively sick.

When I get back to the Common Room that night, I don't feel much better. My head is still spinning, and I have no idea what in the world happened to cause the night's previous events to transpire. I can't focus on how I actually _feel _about the situation because I don't quite _believe _the situation.

I know something's up as soon as I step through the Portrait Hole, though, because the few people that are scattered around all look straight at me and then start whispering to each other. Has the news of my new _relationship _(ugh) spread so quickly that it made it back to Gryffindor before I even did? I glare at some Fourth Year kids who are whispering quickly with each other, and they all immediately shut up.

Deciding that I need a lie down (and a few shots of firewhiskey), I decide to ignore all the budding gossip and go on upstairs. I very nearly make it, too, but then I spot Rose and Hugo together by the stairs. It's strange enough to see them voluntarily together, but it's even weirder that they're both acting like all the other idiots in our Common Room. They're both staring at me cautiously.

I take the bait and stop in front of them.

"What?" I demand. Rose is probably just _bursting _to tell me what a horrible person I am and how she can't believe anyone would ever be stupid enough to _trust _me and how she can't wait to watch me fuck things up with Kate.

Or maybe not…

She doesn't glare at me or do any of the normal things she does when she sees me. Instead, she looks a little bit nervous. "Did you see the paper?" she finally asks, and her voice strains a little bit so that it's sort of hard to hear her.

"What paper?" I ask, I have no idea what she's talking about. I don't read the paper. There must be something horrible in it about her mum again or something. That might explain why both she and Hugo look so worried.

They glance at each other, and it's really annoying. Finally, though, Hugo hands me a crumpled newspaper. I turn it over and sigh loudly, but I stop short when I look down at the headline.

_**POTTER SPLIT CONFIRMED**_

_Harry Potter and his wife of eighteen years, ex-Quidditch star Ginny Potter, have officially called it quits, _The Daily Prophet _can exclusively report._

_Rumors of a separation have been circulating for months, but confirmation came late Thursday morning as Mr. Potter was spotted in Muggle London looking at several different rental properties. Noticeably absent, of course, was his wedding ring, and sources confirm that the split is immediate and likely permanent._

_Reasons behind the separation are still unclear, though several close friends of the Potters reveal that the marriage has been strained for some time now. There is no word yet on where or if a rental property was secured, but we can confirm that there were offers discussed._

_  
The Potters have three children together, ranging in age from thirteen to eighteen. No one at the household was immediately available for comment._

The Daily Prophet _will keep you updated on any late-breaking developments in the story._

I read the article through twice.

My brain doesn't process it the first time. I don't believe it, but the proof is right there in front me as I look down at the picture accompanying the article. Sure enough, there is my dad, _sans wedding ring, _walking as inconspicuously as possible down a street somewhere in Muggle London.

Something in my stomach drops, and if I felt sick before, it's really nothing compared to the vile feeling that floods me now. I don't look up at my cousins right away because I'm not sure of what my face looks like at the moment. When I'm sure that it's under control, I finally look up at them. They're both staring back at me with what has to be sympathy (or at least the closest that Rose can manage in regards to me).

"When did you get this?" I ask, struggling very hard to control my voice and keep it as even as humanly possible.

"It's a special edition," Rose says quietly. For once in her life, she doesn't seem to know what to say.

"Did Lily see it?" I ask. I purposely don't mention my brother's name because I'm not entirely sure I can handle that at the moment.

Rose looks warily over at Hugo who swallows once and then nods. "Yeah. She ran upstairs crying…"

Great.

Fucking _fantastic._

"James-" Rose opens her mouth to say something, but then she closes it. She just looks away and frowns.

"How could they not tell us?" I ask, looking from one to the other. I don't even know what my voice sounds like, but I hope it isn't too obvious.

"Maybe it's not true," Rose offers quietly, but, of course, she knows it's true. She can look at the picture as easily as I can.

I can't even process all of this. I want to hit something. And I also want to run upstairs and just crawl into bed.

I really feel physically ill, and I can't understand it.

What the fuck is going on?

--

A/N:Ahhhh, so now the hate starts, I'm sure! Sorry!! Hahaha, I wanted to get this out before I'm indisposed for the weekend… Please let me know what you think and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!


	29. Rose, Definitely Insane

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 29

**ROSE, DEFINITELY INSANE.**

--

_This is not how we wanted you to find out. That was never our intention._

Well, how lovely and generous of them for _not _planning on breaking the news of their split to their children via newspaper. They should definitely be nominated for some sort of parenting award or something. What more could anyone possibly ask for, right?

As long as they didn't _intend _it.

_This isn't permanent. We don't know what's going to happen, but we need some time to figure things out._

Well, if they don't know what's going to happen, how do they know it isn't permanent? They all suck at Divination.

_We are so sorry, and we don't want any of you to worry. Please don't listen to the mean and hateful things the papers will print. Always know that you can come to us for the real truth._

That's the best bit of all. Don't worry that your parents are splitting up. Don't listen to the things the papers write because they might say something mean. You can always come to us for the edited version, and we swear to be at least _partially _honest…

My aunt and uncle's separation seems to be the _only _headline these days. Every day and every newspaper… it's always something. And obviously we're all reading them, despite the warnings to do otherwise. Everyone in the whole school is reading them, and no one's making any secret of it.

Of course, there is _one _tiny little upside to it… The papers seem to be completely distracted from writing about _my _mum…

Yes, I know that's awful. They're my aunt and uncle… They're my _godparents… _They're my parents' best friends… Yes, I know. It's terrible. But it is nice to be able to read about something else for a change besides the upcoming election.

Of course, Mum _does _manage to come up occasionally in the articles. Apparently some people think this is all a publicity stunt organized by my mother's campaign team to generate sympathy. That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, since I don't know anyone who would be sympathetic towards people for breaking up a family and making their children miserable.

And they _are _miserable.

I've had to step into the nurturing role. Yes, _me. _I've had to start being nice to Lily because she's devastated and just randomly bursts into tears at any given moment. So since both of her brothers are idiots, I have to take care of her and tell her that everything will be alright (even though I'm quite positive that it won't). And sometimes she listens, and sometimes she just cries harder. She spends most of her time up in her room (unless she's in class), and I have to spend most of mine up there with her because she won't really talk to anyone else.

Lily and I haven't exactly gotten along spectacularly in… oh, several years. She used to worship me and want to be just like me, but it's been awhile since she acted like that. Lately, she's been so self-obsessed that she hasn't had time to think of anyone but herself. She's finally stopped being a little bitch and has decided to play nice. I suppose a great deal of that has to do with the fact that she knows no one else is going to sympathize with her the way I do. I mean, her friends obviously feel bad for her, but they can't understand what it feels like to go through that- especially in _that _way, out in the middle of the media for all the world to see. I don't know exactly what it feels like, either, but I can guess, considering all the things I've had to read about my own parents in the paper. And plus, her parents may as well be mine. We were all pretty much raised together, so it bothers me, too, that they've apparently hit some point where they can't even work things out.

I've had to star being cordial to James, too. Which is weird, believe me. He's reacting differently than I would have expected. I would have expected him not to care and to simply blow it off and act like none of it matters. He's not _crying _over it, of course, but he _is _visibly upset. His reaction is more anger-oriented than Lily's is, though. Lily lies in bed and cries, James thinks of every swear he can remember ever hearing and assigns those words to his parents. But, yeah, I don't really blame him because they all sort of fit.

He isn't being nearly as much of a prick as I would have expected him to be. He isn't even being that awful to me, and he pretty much hates me. But we tend to get along better in situations like these when we both have a common enemy. Not that I count my aunt and uncle as my _enemies, _really, but they definitely aren't very high up on my list of favorite people.

And neither are my own parents.

I wrote to them and flat-out asked them what was going on because none of us have any idea what brought any of this on or anything. Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny are just being completely cryptic and writing stupid letters that aren't even worth the parchment they're written on, but I figured that (maybe) my dad would at least be a little bit honest with us. He has a tendency to let things slip that no one else will. I used to think he did it on accident, but now I'm beginning to think that he plays like he's a lot dumber than he actually is and does stuff like that just because he knows he can get away with it. He can spill secrets, and people will just say, "Oh, that's Ron, he can't help but be an idiot." But I think he actually _can _help it and just chooses not to.

Of course, the one time I was banking on him to fuck up, I get a letter back from my _mother _that says it isn't any of their business to go sharing personal information and that when Harry and Ginny think it's appropriate to tell, then they will discuss it with us. But until then I should do my best to stay out of it.

Well, woo-fucking-whoo.

God, I swear sometimes I wish I could just… throw a gigantic book at my mother's head and make her _shut up. _I can imagine the scene in the kitchen all too easily when my letter arrived. She probably yanked it out of my dad's hands and forbid him to go anywhere near an ink well.

It's just stupid. I mean, it's not as if we're ten years old. All of us are old enough to know what's going on, and it isn't fair to keep us in the dark.

Al is maybe taking it the worst of all.

He's being extremely shut off about it, of course, but every single time I see him, he looks like he doesn't know whether to punch a wall or burst into tears. He spoke to me once. I tried to ask him if he was okay, and he sort of glared at me and said, "I'm fine. Why don't you go check on my brother?" And yes, it was very annoying and not very nice, but at least it was something… Right?

Or maybe it was worse than nothing.

I don't know what to _do. _I have tried everything in the world to stop him being mad at me, and nothing works. He just glares at me during class and sits as far away from me as possible at meals. And it's not like he has to try a lot. I don't exactly have a line of people queuing up to eat with me…

Sometimes, if I'm feeling especially desperate, I sit with Hugo, Lily, and Amanda.

But usually I'd just rather eat alone.

It's a Hogsmeade weekend, but it seems as if no one feels like going. Well, obviously a lot of people go, but not my family. Lily wants to sit in the Common Room moping, and Hugo, of course, keeps her company. Al would apparently rather spend his afternoon in his room brooding (or sleeping or whatever else boys in do their in their dorm- no, not _that). _I decide to catch up on some much needed revision for my OWLs. Only James heads off to the village, hand in hand with his _girlfriend._

That's so weird. I still want to know what spell Kate used to bewitch him. It can't be the Imperius because I doubt anyone's brave enough to try an Unforgiveable on the Head Auror's son. So it has to be a spell. I don't see any other possible way that she could have got him to agree to something like a _relationship._

It's sort of funny actually. He's so clearly mortified by the whole thing, but it's like he has no choice but to go along with it. I'd say he was under a love spell, but he isn't acting _that _insane. Maybe he actually did agree to it out of his own free will. I don't know. She must have something amazing going for her, though, if he did. I never in my whole life thought I'd see the day James would call someone a _girlfriend._

She shows up at the Common Room and waits on him, and he doesn't exactly pull away when she kisses him right in front of everyone. He doesn't pay anyone much attention as he grabs her hand and heads off with her. It makes me think of this year's first Hogsmeade weekend back in October. I'd gone off with _my _boyfriend, holding his hand in front of everyone and feeling so happy about it… That was the _last _day I held his hand.

It seems as if a million years have passed since David Jordan.

It's nearly Valentine's Day, so all the couples heading off to the village are more than just slightly nauseating. I hope Kate drags James into Madame Puddifoot's and makes him have tea with her. I doubt she will, though, because she's not exactly like the other usual squealing and giggling girls that tend to litter the corridors here. Still, though, she might do it just to have a laugh… The idea almost makes me give up on my studying and head off to Hogsmeade to spy. But, of course, I don't. The OWLs are extremely, extremely important. I don't care if no one else seems to realize this or not because I am the smartest person in this school for a reason. _I _know that studying is the only way to guarantee success. And the only way I have a chance of ever stepping out of my parents' shadows and making a name for myself is to be majorly successful in school.

So I grab my bag and head down to the library to study.

It's not crowded in the least, which isn't very surprising, considering the fact that most other people are down in the village. The people who _aren't- _either because they're too young or because they're exhausted or because their parents are separating- are definitely _not _spending their Saturday in the library. I grab my favorite table, which is tucked in the back left corner by the Restricted Section, and I start spreading out all of my texts in front of me. My mother gave me a study diary for Christmas, and it is actually really useful. I'm sure if anyone else knew I was using it that I'd be the laughing stock of Hogwarts, but at this point, I mean, what do I seriously have to lose?

It's not as if I've got any friends anyway…

Potions completely takes over my afternoon. It's going to be my most difficult, I'm sure, simply because I never exactly know if I'm doing it _correctly. _Obviously I know the theories and all that sort of thing, but Professor Montague has a horrid habit of making me feel like an absolute idiot, and sometimes I tend to believe him. Of course, I know he's got it out for me in the worst possible way, but it doesn't make things any easier for me. I still doubt myself ten times more than I do in anything else.

It seems as if ages pass before I heard anyone else enter the library, but I eventually look up just in time to see the very _last _person I want to see enter. Scorpius Malfoy _would _be the only other person in the entire bloody school to choose the library over Hogsmeade. He doesn't see me right away, and I think briefly about ducking under the desk and hiding there. Of course I don't, though, that would just be ridiculous. But I can't help it. He makes me _feel _ridiculous.

He hasn't spoken to me ever since that day when I yelled at him outside and told him to leave me alone. I don't blame him. I _was _sort of a bitch (and by sort of, of course, I mean completely and totally). He avoids me in class and no longer speaks to me if we pass in the hallways. He acts exactly the same as everyone else acts.

So I don't know why it bugs me so much more.

He's been bugging me for months now. I used to think it was because he was borderline stalkerish and entirely too obsessed with me. But now that he's ignoring me, I'm even _more _bothered. I guess I sort of miss the irritation that always came with him following me around. Maybe I sort of secretly liked that level of devotion as well. But now it's gone, and now I sort of secretly miss it.

_Ugh_.

Obviously I say the "ugh" out loud (much to my own surprise) because he looks up immediately from his position in the herbology section. He actually drops the book he's holding. I guess my voice must have echoed pretty loudly in the otherwise empty library. I half expect the librarian to rush over and tell me to shush, but I don't even think _she's _here today.

When Scorpius spots the source of the voice, his eyes go a bit wider, and then he swallows nervously. I wonder if he's going to run away. It wouldn't really surprise me if he did, but who knows what he's going to do? He just stands there awkwardly for a few seconds, and then he bends down to clumsily pick his book back up.

You'd think for a Seeker, he'd have much better reflexes than that…

Is it possible that he's growing? He looks taller, though I'm not at all sure that that's actually the case. He could be exactly the same height as before or maybe even shorter (though I highly doubt it), but for some reason, he seems bigger to me today. Sort of like he's grown up since the last time we had a conversation (fight).

I try to mentally will him to look over at me, but he seems to be fairly intent on doing exactly the opposite. He keeps his attention focused squarely on the stacks of books in front of him. I don't know what he's researching, but it doesn't matter. Suddenly, my Potions book seems much, much less interesting.

I wait. And wait. And wait.

But Scorpius isn't giving in. It's as if he absolutely _refuses _to look in my direction. He's probably torn between looking over here and running away, both of which could potentially make him look like a giant prat. So it seems as if he's settled for doing neither. He just continues to stand there and flip aimlessly through page after page.

And I just stare at him.

I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

I suppose that I'm probably trying to reverse the roles a bit. The stalker becomes the stalked. See just how much he likes it. I smile to myself when I see his neck start to flush just slightly. His hair is too long in the back, but I can still see the blush. He _never _blushes. Apparently I've found the loophole to that rule, though- stare at him nonstop until he can no longer ignore it. It's actually sort of fun.

I find myself willing him to run away now. I think that would make me happy, if he would just give in and flee. But, of course, he doesn't. He apparently doesn't want to give me that satisfaction, either. I've got to give it to the kid. He's got a whole lot of willpower to just stand there when he knows he's being stared down. I probably would have taken off myself…

I wish he'd take his shirt off.

Okay, _what? _

Even _I _don't know where that came from, and it's _my _head. I hate when my brain gets away from me. It drives me _insane. _Yes, I admitted a long time ago that this stupid idiot was attractive, but that doesn't mean I should randomly start letting things like that pop into my head. That is so very _not _appropriate.

But it's also true… which is awful, I know.

Scorpius is skinny, as skinny as Al and probably just maybe an inch taller. I'm taller than both of them. I get that from my dad, both of their dads are on the shorter side. His hair is too long and looks as if it hasn't seen a comb in months. It's sticking up in all the wrong (right) places, and his habit of pushing his hand backwards through it is very obvious. He's the palest person I've ever met that has actual blood running through their veins (and I've yet to meet anyone who _hasn't _got blood running through their veins), but the faint pink blush that's sprinkled across the back of his neck is rather cute. He's dressed in jeans and a jumper and trainers that look far too dirty for someone as rich as he is.

And before I even know what I'm doing, I'm walking over to him. _Stop, feet, stop. _It doesn't work. They keep going. I feel like I'm having an out of body experience or something. This is insane.

"Are you ever going to pick a book, or are you just going to stand there all day?" The words that come out of my mouth surprise even me. I'm not really very used to hearing myself speak without first hearing the words in my head. So this is new.

Scorpius takes approximately 5.9 seconds to finally look over at me. "I thought you weren't speaking to me?"

I lean against the bookshelf and try to look as casual as possible. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you told me to leave you alone… and a bunch of other stuff."

I know the other stuff he's referring to, I remember it well. Instead of acknowledging it, though, I turn the conversation slightly. "I'm a girl. I'm allowed to say one thing and mean another."

I'm trying to joke with him, but he doesn't seem to find the humor in the situation. His expression stays completely stony as he says, "Did you need something, or did you just come over here to bother me while I was trying to read?"

Ohhh… _touchy. _Somebody's been taking bitch classes.

"I didn't realize you were reading," I reply back smoothly. "You've flipped past the same page twenty times."

His face goes pink to match his neck. _Excellent._

"I'm trying to get together some texts for my OWL preparations."

"Oh, I was studying for that, too." I look at him and try to figure out exactly _how _pissed off he is. "We could study together if you want."

Scorpius just looks at me. His eyes are suspicious, and I can't say I really blame him. I still don't even know why I'm doing this. I didn't realize I was _this _bored…

Finally, he shakes his head and says, "I can study by myself, thanks." He looks back down at the same stupid book he's been holding for ages.

And then my entire demeanor changes. _Snaps, _more like it.

"You know what, Malfoy? I don't know what your problem is. One day you're pretty much _stalking _me, and the next you won't even look at me!"

Scorpius's head snaps back up, and he stares at me incredulously. "Are you _serious?" _he asks in stunned disbelief. "Do you even _remember _our last conversation?"

I shrug angrily. "I already told you I'm allowed to say things and mean something else."

But apparently he doesn't agree. "No, you're not! No one's allowed to do that!"

"Oh, get over it," I snap, glancing behind me just to make sure that we're still alone and that no nosy librarian is going to come poking her nose into our business. "Sorry if I hurt your _feelings!"_

His eyes flash, and I realize I've probably hit a nerve. Surely I didn't _really _hurt his feelings… he's just hacked off at me, right?

"You can't just go around being mean to people like that," he tells me a second later, though his voice is a little lower. "I don't care how bad you think you've got it, that doesn't give you an excuse."

"Oh, what's _that _supposed to mean?" I swing my hair behind my shoulder and stare at him expectantly.

"A lot of people have got it a lot worse than you do, Rose. You don't ever think about that."

I don't know _what _he's talking about. Where the hell did any of _this _come from?

"You don't know _shit _about what I have or don't have," I hiss back, suddenly very, _very _angry. "And you've got no right to judge _me _about anything!"

Scorpius rolls his eyes. _Rolls his eyes. _"You're really caught up in yourself, aren't you?"

"_Excuse me?"_

"Do you honestly think that the world revolves around Rose Weasley? You don't ever even _think _about other people or anything they might be going through. It doesn't matter, does it? It's never going to be as bad as what _you've _got going on."

"Oh, you just-"

He cuts me off. His eyes look a little bit darker as he narrows them on me. "You're so _mean, _Rose. You're just _mean."_

"You don't know anything about me!"

I'm horrified to realize that I'm very, very close to tears. Please, _please _stay back. _Don't fall._

Scorpius sees them, too, and he backs off of his attack for just a brief moment. He looks at me almost pityingly, and it makes me sick.

"I know you're not as mean as you want to be," he finally says, and his voice is so quiet I barely hear him. I stare at him, and he hesitates for just a second before continuing. "And I know that you only act that way to keep other stuff hidden… And I know that you miss your friends…"

His lips are warmer than they were last time, maybe because the blush in his face his warming them a bit. They seem just as shocked to meet mine as they did before, but it takes less than a second for them to become accustomed. When I get impatient and move his lips apart, I'm not at all surprised to find that his mouth tastes like sugar. Or that I enjoy it so much…

Why am I kissing Scorpius Malfoy again?

Who knows? Why did I ever get up from my table? Does it matter?

It doesn't.

This kiss is a _lot _different from our first. It's a lot more urgent and far more involved. He doesn't back away or hesitate at all. I don't even notice his lack of experience. All I notice is that he wants to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss him. And nothing else really even registers.

The book he's holding drops out of his hand for a second time, and it clutters to the floor with loud thump. I don't care, though, because no one's around. We're completely and totally alone.

I grab his face and pull him even closer.

Finally, though, breathing is a necessity. We both seem to realize this at exactly the same moment, and we jerk apart but don't go too far. I'm sure my face is even redder than his (which is the reddest I've ever seen it), and catching my breath proves to be very difficult.

Finally, though, I manage to speak. My words come out in a choked sort of whisper. "I'm not drunk."

"I know." He's having as much trouble speaking as I am.

I don't know what else to say, so I just nod. His eyes latch onto mine, and he looks at me very seriously. "Good," I breathe quickly.

And then I grab him back into another kiss.

What have I gotten myself into?

--

A/N: I promise that the Harry/Ginny thing WILL be explained. And this is a day or so later than I planned, but I had to recover from the monstrosity of a book I wasted my weekend on. But the good news is now that Nessie Cullen has officially ruined my life, you've got my full attention again!


	30. Scorpius, Clueless

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 30

**SCORPIUS, CLUELESS**

--

My life isn't exactly full of a whole lot of ups.

We don't really get a whole of those as Malfoys. At least we don't anymore. I imagine that my father's teenage years were vastly different from mine. He was probably popular and carefree and didn't really worry about too much of anything except for how he was going to annoy Harry Potter that particular day. He probably never had to worry about being shoved into the wall or snickered at or left to sit alone at dinner.

I don't really know how to _not _worry about those things.

People don't like me because of who my grandfather (and, to a somewhat lesser extent, my father) is. They don't like me because my last name is Malfoy, and to all outsiders, Malfoy means only one of two things- Death Eater or traitor. I don't particularly enjoy being classified as _either _of those things. Not to mention, of course, that I don't even know the truth behind all of that stuff. No one's ever really bothered to explain it to me or feign concern for my understanding. They just gloss over it, and that's that.

And I guess I never noticed or really paid attention to the fact that I was pretty much clueless.

Until now anyway.

Now there's Rose.

That sounds weird even just thinking it. I didn't really ever expect that it would happen, I guess, and now that it _has, _I really haven't a clue what to do with it. Of course, there's a lot more to it than I would have imagined in my whole little ideal fantasy. For example, I didn't imagine the bit where she insisted on keeping it a secret.

She won't tell anyone, and she made me swear not to tell anyone, either. I prepared myself for the worst when I asked her why… She was embarrassed, of course, that had to be it. She may have currently been a pariah, but she had, at one point, actually been quite popular. I, on the other hand, had always been about as far to the other extreme as it is possible to be. So I guess I couldn't really blame her, but it still bothered me when I was forced to ask why we had to be a secret.

"Because my parents _cannot _find out!" She looked at me like I was half-insane and fully stupid.

"I thought you wanted your parents to find out?"

"I was _drunk!" _She rolled her eyes. "Now, I actually have ambitions of seeing my sixteenth birthday, thanks."

Was it really _that _bad? So bad that she feared for her life? Well… no one has ever accused her of being _under-_dramatic…

"How would they find out?"

She looked at me like I was fully stupid again. "Oh, I don't know…" Sarcasm, her favorite vice. "My brother… my cousins… Neville… Lysander and Lorcan _Scamander! _There are more than enough ways for them to find out, _trust _me."

I didn't know what to say. So I just said, "Oh."

"Oh, come on. You _can't _want your parents to find out, either."

I just shrugged.

"Your dad would _kill _you."

Would he, though? Was it really that serious? "Maybe he wouldn't care."

Rose snorted and rolled her eyes yet again. "Please. Your dad hates my parents as much as they hate him. And that's saying a _lot."_

But is that really true? Obviously my father isn't her parents' biggest fan, but I find it hard to believe he really _hates _them. I remember the summer after my first year, the summer that Rose was kidnapped, her parents came to my house. Her father shook _my _father's hand, and they thanked him. Was all that just for show because there was a twelve year old present? Maybe. How would I know? I wonder if Rose knows any of that. She never, ever mentions that summer, and I've decided that it's probably _not _in my best interest to bring it up.

That was the end of the conversation, though, and I left it alone. Now it's been a week and a half, and no one suspects anything, I'm sure. Nothing has changed on the surface. We don't sit together in class or at meals, and the only time we see each other is in the evenings when we're supposed to be studying.

But as surprising as you might find it, Rose is actually _very _easily distracted from studying when she has other options in front of her. And she's not very shy about distracting herself, either. Not that I'm complaining, of course, but I have a feeling that if she somehow doesn't pull straight Os that I'm going to be blamed. And I don't particularly fancy the thought of her having a grudge like that against me because I'm pretty sure that if she wanted to hex me, she wouldn't have to much trouble.

But I can't seem to get her focused, no matter what I say.

"I could pass those tests with my eyes closed!" she snaps, and she flips her hair over her shoulder. "You need to be more concerned with _yourself."_

This is true. Obviously she has a much better chance of passing all her OWLs with her eyes closed than I have of passing all of them with an open book beside me. But that's precisely the reason I think we need to study- or rather that _I _need to study, and _she _needs to tutor me.

She doesn't agree, though.

She isn't interested in tutoring, she's only interested in snogging.

I know, right? She's Rose Weasley. I didn't think there was anything in the entire universe more interesting to her than studying, but apparently I was very, very wrong.

I get distracted from distracting her, though, because she's got her tongue shoved halfway down my throat and both of her hands wrapped in my hair so tightly that I'm not entirely sure it'll still be attached to my head when she's finished. Somehow, though, it doesn't really hurt…

I love kissing her, _love _it. Granted, I don't have anything to compare it to, but I can't imagine that kissing anyone else could be better. She's so _different _when she's like this, so much less uptight and high wound. She's actually quite the opposite. I don't know where she learned it all, and I guess I probably don't want to know. But I do know that if she never stops, I'll probably be really happy.

I don't know exactly _what _we are yet. I don't know if she's my girlfriend or if I'm her boyfriend or if we're just friends or even if we're _not _friends. It's too hard to tell with her, and I'm too scared to ask. I have a feeling that she probably wouldn't enjoy that conversation too much. Rose is sort of… explosive… so sometimes it's better not to provoke her and just to let her address issues when she feels the urge.

This is one of those times.

"Now, would you _still _rather talk about Potions?" she asks when she finally pulls back a little bit (though she doesn't let go of my hair).

I shake my head. "Not really."

She grins, smiling like she's guilty of something. Perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. And slightly swollen lips. If she smiled like that forever, I'd probably do anything in the world she wanted.

I'd probably do it regardless.

"Good," she replies back, clearly pleased. "Because I really hate Potions."

And then she kisses me again, and I forget all about the upcoming OWLs.

We're in one of the small study rooms off the library. Nobody uses these rooms for studying, of course, or at least I doubt it. However, if anyone _was _going to use them for their proper reasons, it would probably be Rose. Because of that, no one really suspects anything of us being in here. Even Madame Laurence, the librarian, apparently believes it, as she never comes snooping 'round like she does with most other people who use the private rooms to "study."

I decide not to push my luck, and I just let everything go as Rose moves even closer to me. We're both seated on the floor, and she moves until she's practically right on top of me. Panic sets in, though, and I quickly pull away from her just in time to save myself major embarrassment.

Rose, of course, is pissed off.

"What are you doing?"

I'm having trouble thinking, probably because all the blood in my body has left my brain and traveled elsewhere, so I just shake my head a bit (_a lot) _nervously.

"I just need to catch my breath," I lie.

Rose, of course, doesn't buy it. "You're scared."

My eyes probably go to twice their normal size, and I stare at her. My mouth is dry, and I don't have much luck when I try to swallow. She just stares at me with narrowed brown eyes that don't leave me with even a prayer of contradicting her.

"I just thought we could talk," I mutter quietly, and I have to look away from her because she knows I'm lying and seems intent on proving it.

She also doesn't seem too patient with the cover story I cooked up. "Talk about what?"

I don't know. What is there to talk about, and what is _wrong _with me? What kind of fifteen year old male moves _away _when a girl is trying to crawl into his lap?

Oh, right. One who has no fucking _clue _what he's doing.

"I don't know," I mutter again. "Have you heard anything about your aunt and uncle?"

Rose sort of glares at me, and she finally lets go of my hair. Much to my surprise, it's still on my head. She sits back against the wall and crosses her arms. Apparently bringing up the tabloid's favorite story isn't such a smart idea. The latest story accused Harry Potter of having an illegitimate love child with a South African Muggle woman. Every day it seems as if there's something else and someone new to report, although it's very obvious that 99 percent of what's being written about is made up or vastly exaggerated. I'm not sure that makes it any easier on Rose and her family, though.

"Yeah," she says snidely. "I heard that I have a South African baby cousin. Although, I guess not technically. Not by blood anyway."

She is being sarcastic, of course. She's probably about three seconds away from yelling at me or hexing me or both. Her eyes are flashing, and I can tell the words of a very serious hex are at the tip of her tongue.

I should have just let her keep it down my throat.

"So they still haven't told you the real reason yet?" I say this quickly, hoping to distract her but knowing that I'm probably just provoking her- she's very finicky.

"No," she answers flatly. "Because that's the way things work in our family. They want us to act like adults, but only when it's convenient for them. When it's not, they like to treat us like children and keep things from us."

"That must suck." I duck my head and pull my knees up. Maybe she won't kill me.

Instead, she snorts. "Suck. Yeah, it does. Of course, we don't have to worry about them expecting us to act any certain way too often because they're hardly ever around anyway." I watch her shove her hair behind her ears from the corner of my eye. "So that's the story of my life. Aren't you glad you've got such insight into the Wizarding world's most famous family?"

Her tone isn't the least bit hostile. The edge of sarcasm is there, of course, but other than that, she just sounds very serious.

I chew on my lip for a second and then look over at her. "You really hate your parents, don't you?"

She looks up, and her eyes flash again, but in a different way this time. They aren't angry, they're more sort of… nervous, I guess. "I don't hate my parents," she says finally, but then her voice lowers a bit. "At least I don't think I do."

"You don't get on with them at all, though, do you?"

She shrugs. "I get along with my dad okay. Sometimes anyway. He isn't as pushy as my mum."

I don't know why I keep pushing it, but I guess it's just different to hear her actually _speak _without snapping and oozing bitchiness.

"So things with your mother…" I don't know where I'm going.

She just looks at me, though. Finally, she says, "She doesn't understand me. And I don't understand her."

I just nod. "Oh."

"She wants me to be like her, I think," Rose goes on, barely even pausing, "but she won't say it. And I don't know _how _to be like her. We're just… different."

"But people expect you to be just like her."

Rose raises her eyebrows.

"People expect me to be just like my father," I go on. She's looking at me in a way that makes me nervous. "I mean, we look alike, but that's about it."

"Do you get on with him?"

I shrug, not really wanting the change in conversational direction but going with it anyway. "I guess. I mean, he tries, I suppose. It is what it is."

"And your mum?"

I shrug again. "She's okay."

"Do you miss them when you're at school?"

I hate talking about myself, but I answer honestly anyway. "Not really." Seeing an out, I turn the tables. "Do you miss _your _family?"

Rose sighs and crosses her legs in front of her. "I miss my brother." I look over at her, and she seems to read my mind. "Not Hugo. Landon. My baby brother." I always forget she has another brother. Rose frowns. "He'll be three on Sunday."

"He doesn't annoy you?"

She shakes her head. "He's the only thing that makes being at home tolerable. But I miss everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Every time I see him, it's as if he's grown a foot and learned a hundred new things. I didn't get to see when he walked for the first time or when he talked for the first time or when he said his alphabet for the first time or _anything. _And now he's going to be three, and I won't be there for that, either."

I'm not sure that she's even talking to me anymore. It almost seems as if she's speaking to herself, but I'm sure she's obviously aware that I'm still here.

I'm surprised to hear her talk like that actually, considering the fact that she's got the toughest outer-shell of anyone I've ever known in my life. It's hard for me to imagine her being so attached to her baby brother, but she really seems serious and not at all as though she's exaggerating.

She looks very sad suddenly, and since I have no idea what the _hell _to say, I awkwardly reach an arm out and put it around her shoulder. I'm allowed to do that, right? I mean, if I'm allowed to kiss her, I'm allowed to touch her, right? Well, if I'm not, I'm sure I'll find out in approximately half a second.

She doesn't say anything.

And my head, balls, and all other extremities still appear to be attached.

A weird and awkward silence fills the room around us, and we both sit there not speaking to each other. I wonder if she'll hate me if I kiss her again just to break the tension. I probably shouldn't.

Instead, I take a random chance and say, "I was scared." Rose looks over without turning her head. I'm thankful for that as I keep my eyes focused ahead of me. "Before," I lower my voice so that it doesn't crack and humiliate me, "when you asked, when I pulled away, you were right. I was scared."

Another horrible silence smothers us, but when I chance a quick glance over, Rose is smiling to herself, her own eyes fixed at a point on the floor in front of her. Great. Now she's going to make fun of me.

But she doesn't.

A moment or so later, she says, "I make you that nervous?"

Lying is futile at this point, so I just nod. "Yeah."

The smile turns a bit more sinister, and if eyes could actually sparkle, hers would. When I give up and look over to make eye-contact, she purses her lips for a second and then simply says, "Good."

And when she moves in closer this time, I don't pull away.

--

A/N: First off, thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. It really does mean an awful lot to me that not only do you enjoy this story but that you also take the time to let me know. So, thanks! Second off, I don't know what people are expecting of Rose and Scorpius, but I just want to let everyone know that they're both very different people and that that's something you'll see reflected as their relationship progresses. Rose isn't just being a bitch to be a bitch anymore (well, at least not _a lot), _but in a lot of ways, she's just as clueless as he is about the right way to go about doing things. So please just give them time! And _finally, _I just want to say that I don't _hate _Harry and Ginny- well, I don't hate Ginny anyway… (I don't hate Harry _all _the time). All will be answered and explained in due time, but we'll just have to see where things go with them.

Whew, I think that was the longest A/N I've done, so in conclusion, please give me your thoughts!!


	31. Al, Questions and No Answers

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 31

**AL, QUESTIONS AND NO ANSWERS**

--

_Fame, Fortune, and the Fall of the Potters_

_The life of Harry Potter has never been a simple one. As a child, he was orphaned and left to the mercy of loathsome family members where he was raised in a loveless environment. His teenage years were, of course, littered with more horror and heartbreak than even the oldest of men should see in a lifetime. But the Boy Who Lived became the Boy Who Conquered, and at the age of seventeen, Potter was finally given a peace he'd never before known._

_As the greatest hero that the Wizarding world has ever known, Potter quickly became one of the most sought-after young bachelors in the world. Unfortunately, though, his years of bachelorhood were cut abruptly short when he was forced into marriage with pregnant Quidditch player, Ginny Weasley. Marriage and fatherhood came too quickly for the pair who were twenty-three and twenty-four years old, respectively. However, their family continued to expand, and within the first five years of their marriage, they produced three children._

_In an attempt to raise their children as normally as possible, the family moved to a quiet Muggle neighborhood where the children congregated with Muggles and had very few introductions into the world of their parents' fame. The happy, peaceful existence went on for years, but, of course, every happily ever after must eventually come to an end._

_With all of their children at Hogwarts, Mr. and Mrs. Potter began experiencing problems with their marriage. It seems as if all the money and all the fame in the world wasn't enough to make them happy. For a couple who seemingly had everything, something was missing._

_Boredom. Alcoholism. Infidelity. _

_What caused the Potters' split? How are the children doing?_

_Rita Skeeter has an exclusive look into the Potters' marriage and into their split. What are the _real _reasons behind the decision? Find out from the couple's closest friends as Ms. Skeeter takes you on an inside look into the Potters' world and gives you all the details and secrets you won't find anywhere else._

Fame, Fortune, and the Fall of the Potters _is available Tuesday at booksellers everywhere. Stay tuned to _The Daily Prophet _for more information._

Rita Skeeter? Seriously? Isn't she like sixty years old now or something? Why the _hell _is she so obsessed with my parents that she'd come out of her (god blessed) retirement to write an entire fucking book about them? Not just an article… a _book._

When is this going to fucking _end?_

And who are these so-called closest friends that are giving that bitch her supposed "inside look" into my family? My parents have very few _closest _friends, and I can guarantee you that none of them answered any inquests by Rita fucking Skeeter. Her "sources" are most likely people who work in the janitorial department of the Ministry of Magic or people who were First Year Hufflepuffs during my mum's last year at Hogwarts.

I can already tell it's going to paint a perfectly beautiful picture of my family. Seriously, he was _forced _into marrying her because of a surprise pregnancy. If that's true, then good, we can blame this whole mess on James. Of course it's not true, though. I'm sure Skeeter forgets to include the part where my parents _dated _forever, ever since they were in school. No, I'm sure my mum being a conniving and manipulative slag who trapped the most eligible bachelor in the world makes a much better story.

Unfortunately, I have a horrible feeling that _Fame, Fortune, and the Fall of the Potters _is going to land at the top of the bestseller's list. I wish I could get a copy without contributing any money to that Skeeter bitch. Morbid curiosity, I suppose.

At least it'll hold _some _explanation, even if it _is_ full of lies.

"Are you going to stay in bed all day, or do you plan on joining the Land of the Living any time soon?"

I look over to see JD standing in the doorway of our room. He looks bored as he leans against the doorframe lazily.

"I have a Prefect meeting at 11," I mutter, glancing at the clock on my bedside table that now shows 10:28.

"Well, I would suggest getting up then," JD answers. "Because you _need_ a shower, mate."

I think I've become immune to my own smell. "Maybe I'll just be sick." I roll over onto my side and let the newspaper with the book's write-up fall to the floor beside my bed.

"What do you want me to tell Meg?"

I'm glad that my back's now to JD because he can't see the impossible to suppress scowl and eye roll. Although he can probably imagine them.

I briefly consider telling him to tell Meghan to go fuck herself since my brother is currently preoccupied with his new girlfriend and can't do it for her. But, of course, I don't. Instead, I just force myself to sit up and grab a towel from the rack. The room sways a bit as I stand up, and I realize that I haven't put my feet on the ground in about fourteen hours.

"Try not to fall down," JD advises smartly as I walk past him and out toward the bathrooms. Ours is just across from our room, and I'm glad to find it empty. I choose the last shower stall, preferring to be as far away from people as humanly possible at the moment.

The water isn't very hot, but that's to be expected when you wake up this late. All the good water will have gone hours ago. At least it isn't icy, though. I strip my clothes off and set them on the bench before grabbing the soap and towel and stepping into the lukewarm spray. The water is actually a welcoming wake up call. It heightens my awareness and makes me realize that I have less than half an hour to get ready and get all the way down to the Charms classroom for our Prefect meeting.

And, of course, it makes me realize that I'll most likely have to walk that entire way with Meghan, not to mention sit by her during the whole damn meeting.

_Fuck._

She hasn't exactly spoken to me in several weeks, and I haven't really spoken to her, either. She looks at me like _I'm _the one who messed _her _around. First of all, I'm not the one who fucked her and then didn't speak to her again. And she can't hold shit my brother does against _me. _And second of all, _she's _the one who kissed _me. _She started all of that, so it's her own fault if she doesn't like how it ended up.

And how can she expect anything different anyway?

I mean, I pretty much flat out _told _her that I was in major lust with her, and then she had the nerve to say I should have told her so that she could have waited on me? And then she _kissed _me? What does she expect me to do? The entire time I was kissing her, all I could think about was how I was finally getting exactly what I wanted and, at the same time, how totally and completely fucked up the entire situation was. Sloppy seconds.

That's me.

I'm surprised (and somewhat pleased) that Meghan isn't waiting for me when I make it down to the Common Room. She apparently doesn't feel like putting up with me anymore than I feel like putting up with her, which is fine. I make it down to the makeshift meeting room with just a couple of minutes to spare, but no one seems that concerned.

The Prefect meeting goes exactly as expected- I'm bored to death and have to force myself to stay awake. Fiona Engleton is going on and on and on about some bullshit that I'm sure I don't care about (though I can't know for certain, as I've honestly no idea what she's talking about). Occasionally, she shoots me random little glares, but, of course, she doesn't say anything. She's one of those people who're scared of me. Normally that's annoying, but not in her case. I narrow my eyes back every now and then to _really _put the fear of Harry Potter in her.

If I wasn't in the middle of a crowded meeting, I'd laugh out loud at the thought. People like that are so ridiculous. Do they _really _think my dad gives a shit about who kisses my arse and who doesn't? Well, if they do, they're terribly mistaken. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he prefers the ones who don't. Not that it matters, of course, as I haven't heard more than two words from my father in the past month and a half.

I suppose he must be too busy impregnating South African women and shopping for beach houses in the South of France.

Meghan's across the room from me. She is no more interested in Fiona's bullshit than I am, and I can tell she hates being there just as much as I do. I wonder if she knows that this whole thing in her fault? I wouldn't hate her _half _as much if she hadn't kissed me. Yes, I _know _that's what I've wanted for years, but not like that. Not a kissed laced with her desperation because her feelings were hurt over _James. _No. Not at all like that.

She's out the door the second that Fiona decides we can go. I don't blame her, but I still wait a couple of minutes to give her a nice head start back to Gryffindor. I don't even feel like going back to the Common Room actually, but I don't really have anything else to do. A couple of people try to talk to me, but I brush them off and fake a Transfiguration paper excuse. I don't even care if half the people I'm lying to are _in _my Transfiguration class and know there's no essay. They won't contradict me.

My future sister-in-law (yeah, right) is a Prefect, too- one of the few other ones who thinks the whole thing is as stupid as I do. She doesn't exactly take it seriously, either, but she's a Seventh Year and is, by default, supposed to care. So she tries, I guess, but it's obvious that she doesn't get much out of it. I do a pretty good job of avoiding her usually, but she seems to be hanging around on purpose today, just waiting on me to finally leave. And when I do, I'm not really surprised when she follows me.

"Maybe next time you should drink some coffee before the meeting," she suggests, falling into step beside me.

I try to ignore her, but it's impossible. She's quite persistent and sort of demands attention. "Maybe next time I'll just stay in bed," I reply without missing a single step. The quicker I can get away from her the better.

"Now that wouldn't make you a very good role model, would it?"

It probably makes me a better role model than if I were sneaking out each night to meeting my boyfriend for a quick shag. I want to tell her this, but I can't figure out how to say it without making myself sound gay. If I switch it to girlfriend, she might not understand the jab I'm trying to make… Fuck it.

Instead, I just say, "You know my brother hates me, right?"

"So?"

"So… according to _girlfriend code, _I'm pretty sure you're supposed to hate me, too."

I can see her roll her eyes without even turning my head. "First off, I don't follow any _code," _she says snidely. "And secondly, James doesn't hate you."

This makes me laugh, well, more snort than anything, I suppose. I roll my own eyes. "Um, yes, he does."

"No, he doesn't," she shoots right back. "He's actually quite worried about you."

I wish she'd just go away. She's getting on my nerves, and now she's trying to play Fixer Upper with my brother and me. _Great. _

I decide to play along. "Oh? And why do you think he's worried about me?"

"Because he is," she says simply. We turn up the corridor heading for the first set of stairs. "You know, because of all the shit that's going on."

"Oh, you mean my South African infant sister?"

Kate smiles a little bit, and I look over and raise my eyebrows at her. She just shakes her head. "That's his favorite, too."

Kate is pretty, but she's far from the hottest girl in school. She's actually more cute than anything, and she's definitely not who most people would guess to be the first and only girl James would call his girlfriend. To say he's popular is a very extreme understatement. He's the _most _popular of the popular, and most girls here wouldn't waste a second in dumping their current boyfriends and selling their left arms for the chance to be his girlfriend.

But Kate's the only one who's ever convinced him on exclusivity, so she must have _something _right going on.

"He wants to know how you're doing, but he's too scared to ask," she goes on, hurrying to keep up with me. I speed up just a little bit on purpose, just to make her struggle. "He really _is _worried."

"Yeah, worried we're going to have to share a room on Dad's weekends," I mutter sardonically.

Kate lets out a laugh that sounds more like a snort. "I doubt he'll be visiting your dad…"

Of course not. James will use any excuse in the world to hate Dad. Whatever's happened will indefinitely be Dad's fault- even if Mum's knocked up with Neville's love child, it'll be because Dad forced her. That's James's answer for everything- _blame Dad._

When I don't give her any sort of answer, Kate rolls her eyes. I can see her without even turning my head. "You could talk to him, too, you know," she says pointedly. "It works both ways."

Not even sparing her a second of consideration, I say, "I didn't start it."

"Does it _matter?"_

"Yes."

"Oh, my god," now she sounds completely frustrated, "you're just like him!"

That makes me stop. I literally stop walking and stare at her in shock. No one has _ever _said that James and I are "just like" each other. _Ever. _The reason for this, of course, is because we are _not _similar. In any way. Period.

"I am _nothing _like James," I say firmly, my voice flat and serious.

Kate rolls her eyes again. "Please. Say whatever you want to say, but you are just as stubborn and thick-headed as he is. Both of you are too ridiculous to put an end to this stupid little fight, and both of you are acting like complete infants over it."

Okay, when the hell did she put in to become our mother? I bet James would _die _if he knew she was doing this. Of course, he doesn't know, though, because he's out on the pitch with the Quidditch team running scrimmage like every Sunday. I should be out there, too. _That's _what started this whole mess. It was _him._

"Why do you even care so much, Kate?" I ask flatly, not even bothering to keep the hostility out of my voice. "I mean, what does it matter to you if we hate each other or if we're best friends?"

Kate just looks at me like I'm a child. She probably considers me one.

"Believe it or not," she says slowly, "I actually _really _care about your brother. A lot. I know people think I'm just after him because of what he is, but I'm actually _not _that manipulative."

I'm sort of shocked to hear her say it loud, and I'm getting uncomfortable under her gaze, so I look away. "I never said that."

"Maybe," she says shrugging. "But I hear everything people are saying, and trust me… that's not what it's about."

I don't know what she wants me to say, so I just sort of look at her.

"Look, I know I'm not the _prettiest _girl in this school, so obviously he must be under a love spell or something, right?" She grimaces and shakes her head. "James likes me, okay? And I don't care what everyone else is saying because it doesn't have anything to do with them."

Wow. I don't know where all of that came from, but she seems pretty adamant in her rant against the gossip that's been whispered about her and what she must have done to make James turn in his whore boots. She doesn't appear fazed in the least bit, and I have to give it to her, she certainly isn't afraid of what other people think.

Maybe that's why James likes her.

"I didn't say any of that," I say again. It's not _technically _a lie… I haven't _said _it- at least out loud.

"I know," she nods. "But I know you've heard what everyone is saying. And I just want you to know that it's bullshit. James and I like each other, and that's all there is to it. And I really care about your brother, and I _know _everything he's thinking even though he won't say any of it out loud." Sounds like me. Wait, _what? _"He's really upset about your parents, and fighting with you isn't helping him any, either. I really wish you'd both just grow up and get over it."

Now it's _my _turn for the eye rolling. "We're not going to get over it, so you might as well stop wasting your time."

I turn around to walk off, but she hurries after me. "I'm going to keep bugging you until you crack," she promises.

"I'll lock myself in Gryffindor Tower."

Kate laughs. "Please, you think I don't know the password to Gryffindor?"

"He gave you the _password?"_

"He's too lazy to come let me in at three o'clock in the morning."

Ew, gross. I don't want to think about that, and I cringe from the mental image that forces its way into my mind.

"You should just give up, Kate," I say pointedly. "James and I hate each other, you're not going to change that."

"You don't _hate _him, and he doesn't hate you. If you're still upset about Meghan-"

I stop and spin around. She bumps into me and then takes a step back. "This has nothing to do with Meghan," I say icily. "I don't give a _shit _about her. This has to do with James and the fact that he has to be the best at everything- he has to _have _the best, and he has to _be _the best. And I'm sick of competing with him."

"Just _talk _to him."

I shake my head. "No offense, Kate, but I think James is a fucking prick, and I pretty much wish we'd never even met each other, much less been born brothers. I don't really know anyone I hate more than him, and that's not going to change."

"Al, _please." _Her eyes look sort of pleading, but I ignore them.

"No," I say flatly. Then I turn around and head off in the direction of the Tower, daring her to follow me and break into Gryffindor while I'm awake and ready to catch her. She won't.

I sort of feel bad truthfully, just because Kate really _did _sound concerned. I don't want her to think I'm a bastard, but I don't know what else to say. It's not _her _fault that her boyfriend's a total fuckwit who deserves to die.

Just like it's not _my _fault that he's my brother.

--

A/N: I'm glad that people are relieved to know that I don't hate Harry and Ginny. HOWEVER, I'm absolutely horrified to realize that at least a couple of people think I hate Ron and Hermione! Trust me, I absolutely do NOT hate them. At all. If they seem mean and uncaring, it's because you're seeing them through Rose's eyes, and she's a very self-absorbed fifteen year old girl who thinks the entire world's out to get her. On top of that, I don't think Ron and Hermione are perfect, either. They both have flaws that they've had since they were very young, and I don't see all of that just going away just because they get older. For anyone who has read Lost, you'll know that they both have flaws and that they both struggle with and try to fix (though sometimes they sort of suck at it). But no, absolutely, NO, I don't hate Ron and Hermione!!

And now that that's out of the way... Thanks for reading. Remember, reviews are VERY appreciated!!


	32. Resentment

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 32

**RESENTMENT**

--

It started years ago really, the resentment.

At twenty-two, she seemingly had the entire world at her fingertips. The war was five years in the past, and while some wounds still panged from time to time, they were all healing. Slowly but surely, everyone was healing. Her family was making up for their losses with new additions. Four nieces and a brand new nephew ran the halls of the Burrow and played Hide and Seek in the garden. She was living on her own, but she returned home frequently to spend time with her family.

She made her home in Holyhead, playing on the starting lineup of the Harpies as Chaser. She had just finished her third season and even placed first in the playoffs, earning the Harpies their first championship win in a decade. She was making more money than she'd ever imagined, doing exactly what she loved for a living. Not to mention, of course, that she was young and _in_ love. And not just in love with _anyone, _she was in love with Harry Potter and was the envy of nearly everyone she met.

They were happy then. Harry was certainly happier than he'd been in his entire life. He was in the early years of his career but was still very successful, and while they didn't see each other _constantly, _they were certainly able to spend enough time together to please them both. They were starting to think about their future, and they had a real plan.

Of course, plans, just like rules, were made to be broken.

The pregnancy came as a shock. Unplanned and surprising, it definitely forced the two of them to reevaluate their plans. Neither was opposed to marriage, as they'd always planned on being married anyway; the pregnancy simply expedited it a bit. However, with a child on the way, they were both forced to make sacrifices. He was forced to commit to more hours at work to make sure that they had everything they needed, but despite that, she had always resented the fact that her sacrifices had been so much more costly.

Her Quidditch career was over before it'd barely begun. Three short seasons wasn't nearly enough to fulfill her need, but she'd done the proper thing and put her own dreams behind her so that she could take care of her child. The newspapers had a field day printing stories about their wedding and speculating on reasons for the sudden and quick engagement. When she announced her retirement, the rumors were confirmed, and the whole world knew she was pregnant on her wedding day.

Oh, the scandal.

When James was born, she quickly forgot about her old dreams and focused solely on the new baby boy that slept in the nursery opposite their own room. He was beautiful, of course, with dark auburn hair and big eyes that turned brown before he was three months old. He was chubby and happy and all the things a good baby _should _be.

And she was happy.

She rarely saw her new husband, as he picked up extra shifts whenever possible in an effort to cover all the expenses that a new baby required. She'd always thought that they already had plenty of money, but she didn't let herself complain when he felt the need to earn more "just to be on the safe side." When she did see him, though, she was happier than ever. Being a newlywed was magical and fun, despite the fact that they were already sharing the house with an infant.

She convinced herself that she had _everything. _She was Mrs. Ginny Potter after all, and that had always been her biggest dream. The other stuff… she could live without.

Two years later, they were ready to expand their family. Ron and Hermione wanted a baby, and no one could deny the appeal of having children the same age. They could grow up together, be best friends, go off to Hogwarts together… Within a month, she was pregnant again, and two months later, Hermione was expecting as well. Things were perfect.

Al was a mirror image of his father, jet black hair and emerald eyes from the moment he was born. He was gorgeous, of course, but he was also rather sickly. He had trouble sleeping at night and would sometimes stay up until dawn screaming and choking on his own sobs and coughs- a mild case of colic, according to the healers, but to his mother, there was nothing mild about it. She couldn't understand it. James had never had these issues, and Rose, despite the fact that she was nearly three months younger, slept through the night before Al did.

She was tired. A sick infant and a two year old would be a lot for anyone to handle, but it was especially difficult for her, as she felt more and more each day as if she were raising them alone. He was working more than ever, constantly making sacrifices for them so that she could stay at home.

He never really bothered to ask if that's what _she _wanted.

By the age of twenty-six, she was a full-time mum and pregnant with her third child. Lily was a surprise to everyone but was somehow timed perfectly with Ron and Hermione's second. Lily was an easy baby compared to Al, but three children under the age of five proved too much. She had a difficult time coping with the stress and privately longed for the life she might be having in her mid-twenties if the children weren't there. She loved her kids more than anything, but there was always a nagging thought at the back of her mind, always wondering what _might _have been…

Years passed, and the children grew up. She went to work for the paper, covering the sport she once loved playing so desperately. The job took her away from her home and gave her a brief break from motherhood, but it did little to curb her resentment for the early end to her career. Being back into the Quidditch scene only made her think about where she might be then if things had been different.

He continued to work his way through the ranks in the Auror Department, climbing quickly through different positions. His legacy helped him, of course, but he was also undeniably very good at what he did. He _loved _his work, too- loved it in a way that she could never love writing for the paper. She was jealous that he had somewhere so pleasant to escape to, whereas she found little fulfillment from her own career.

James went off to school and came back a monster. She'd had no way of predicting the negative effect that might be caused by keeping their children out of the spotlight and shielding them from the fame in which their parents were forced to live. Not until James returned from his First Year a completely different person anyway. He was mean and entitled and very demanding of everyone around him. The kids at his school apparently regarded him with something close to hero-worship, and it went to his head in a terrible way. They tried to fix it, tried to break him of his newfound entitlement… but it was a lost cause.

She was worried when Al followed his brother to Hogwarts, but she was happy when he returned home during the summer displaying very few of the characteristics that James had returned with. There were changes evident in his behavior and he was sometimes more than a bit moody, but he wasn't a raging out of control lunatic. And for that she was happy.

Lily was a different story. Lily returned with an even bigger sense of entitlement than James, if that were even possible. She demanded everything and threw huge fits whenever her every wish wasn't catered to. She was hateful and sometimes very cruel, but even with those traits, she was still able to talk her father into anything. He gave her everything she demanded, spoiled her rotten.

The resentment towards her husband was fueled by his treatment of their daughter. She didn't agree with the spoiling, and she had been raised with the understanding that hissy fits were to be punished, not rewarded. But he didn't enjoy listening to the tantrums, and he hated to see Lily unhappy. So he always gave in. It became one of their most frequent fights.

The children spurned several of their arguments actually. He obviously favored Al and Lily, and she often found herself defending James if for no other reason than to disagree with her husband. She didn't condone all of the behavior that she defended, not by any means, but it gave them a real valid point to argue over. James, and the rest of the children for that matter, were physically there. There was something _physical _there for them to argue over and debate.

It was better than facing the other _invisible _issues.

It was better than acknowledging the fact that they no longer knew each other. It was better than admitting that they only spoke to each other once or twice a day and that most of their communication was done in the manner of dark and exasperated looks. When they saw each other, _if _they saw each other because there were days when he was gone before she awoke and didn't return until after she was asleep, they had very little use for each other. If they spoke, it was usually either something as mundane as, _"Pass the salt," _or it was hateful words that were more yelled than spoken.

They had no love life. If they _did _touch, it was usually fueled by a mutual physical frustration, and it no longer meant anything. The soft touches and gentle kisses of their youth were replaced by rough and careless movements, and sometimes she wondered if he was _trying _to hurt her. If he was, she didn't care. She took to growing her nails out so that she would have her own secret weapon, and the scratches across his back were proof of her own ability to cause pain.

Occasionally things would get better. They would have a good week here and there, and she often wondered why they couldn't _always _be like that. But the bad weeks outweighed the good 10:1, and she eventually just gave up. She wasn't sure when she finally realized there was no more hope, but one day she just woke up and knew.

She told him that she was unhappy, and she told him that she'd come to resent everything about him. She was over the fame, she was over the money, she was over the pressure of trying to be the perfect family because whenever they stepped foot into public, flashbulbs were exploding in their face, and they had to smile despite the fact that they were both miserable. She was over all of it. She was over _Harry Potter. _And she told him.

He left that night and did not return for six days.

She felt horrible, worse than she'd ever felt in her life about anything. She knew that she hurt him and that she was unjustifiably mean. She knew that she could have expressed herself in a much more coherent and less offensive way. And so she begged him to come home. She cried and pleaded and sobbed and yelled, and eventually he gave in and came home.

That was the first night in years that she felt real comfort in his arms.

But it didn't last long. He wouldn't let her forget the things she'd said, and her words came up in their conversations more often than should have been allowed. She apologized over and over again, but he was hurt and the grudge against her remained regardless. They went back to fighting, and every day seemed to get worse and worse. He wouldn't forgive her for saying that she was over him, and she grew to despise that about him. His resentment toward her only gave her new material for her own resentment toward him.

Days turned into weeks, and nothing got better. Their children's fights turned into their own fights, and it wasn't long before she began to feel nothing but disgust toward him. He seemed to feel the same toward her. She didn't know what had happened or where her happily ever after had gone… She resented everything about him and everything about her life. She resented the fact that he _was _her life.

And that time when he left, she didn't stop him.

--

A/N: Okay, yes, I know that was very, very short. And I know it was completely different from every other chapter in this entire story… But this story needed to be told, and it needed to be told just like this. Telling this from a first person point of view would have ruined it, in my opinion, and would have probably taken away from the entire story. And I didn't feel like there was any way to get everything out there and get everything explained through the kids' eyes.

So please, if you loved it, hated it, if you're indifferent… please review and let me know your thoughts. I'm very anxious to hear them!

I hope this answers at least _some _of your questions.


	33. James, a Sensitive Soul?

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 33

**JAMES, A SENSITIVE SOUL?**

--

Kate is beautiful.

She is funny, she is smart, she is _not _googly and giggly. She is every single thing that you would want a girl to be. She's pretty close to perfect.

And I'm not even _that _worried about the fact that I don't particularly miss the other girls…

I didn't really expect it to be like this. I figured that it would be much harder to handle, and honestly, if I were a betting man (and I _am, _though I obviously skipped out on this particular bet when it was proposed in my dorm), I would have put money on me fucking things up and getting dumped within a week. After all, I don't particularly consider myself to be ideal boyfriend material… to say the least. My dick thinks for me 99 percent of the time, and while I know that's not exactly a _favorable _trait, it is what it is. I am who I am, and I can't do anything at all to change any of it.

Except for, well, I guess I _have _changed some of it…

It's been exactly a month since Kate forced me into choosing between her and all the other girls in school, and I really haven't even noticed myself missing anything. In fact, I don't even think that I _am _missing anything. I don't really know what I'm supposed to miss, considering the fact that Kate has pretty much everything I want and now I can have it _whenever _I want.

She rarely sleeps in Ravenclaw. She's taken to sneaking into Gryffindor after curfew, and I even gave her the Marauder's Map to make it easier for her. I've never even _told _anyone about that map. The fact that I _gave _it to her really says a lot when you think about it. She knows what it means, she knows that my giving her that map speaks volumes more than anything else I could do.

Plus, it means I want her with me.

It's nice, sleeping with her. And I don't mean sleeping with her as in shagging her (though obviously I don't _hate _that part). No, I mean literally _sleeping _with her. She crawls into my bed nearly every single night, and after she pulls the curtains, she curls herself up against me and always tucks her head right under my chin. It makes me feel important, like I'm there to protect her or something. She's so small, and that's when I always notice it most. It makes me feel like a _man, _you know, taking care of his woman. (PS- I'd never in a million years let Kate hear me refer to her as "my woman" because I'm pretty sure my testicles would be gone within the hour and I'm sort of attached to them, so shhh).

She's really warm, too, her skin, I mean. It always seems to be a couple of degrees higher than mine, and I love the way she feels when she's all pressed up against me like that. And she smells _amazing. _She uses cherry-scented shampoo, and I love the fact that even when she's _not _in my bed, I can still smell her on the sheets and the pillows. She fits perfectly beside me, and her head tucks perfectly under my chin, making it really easy to breathe in the scent of her hair. And I bloody _love _it.

Yes, I know, I've turned into a complete sodding pansy, but I don't particularly care. It's so completely _worth _it.

The sun's already up, and most of my roommates are awake and getting ready for class. Kate's still asleep. She's going to be pissed off at me for not waking her up in time for an early escape. I don't care, though. She looks so pretty when she sleeps, the way her cheeks always flush and the way her short blonde hair sticks up all over the place in every out of control direction. I don't feel like getting up, either, so I just lie there and listen to the sounds of my roommates as they get dressed and head down to breakfast. No one bothers to check on me or pull the curtains back from around my bed to make sure I'm awake, and I'm happy for that.

When I'm finally sure that they're all gone, I nudge her shoulder just a little bit. She mumbles something and snuggles up even closer to me. I weigh the option of just letting her sleep like that for the rest of forever, but I know she's going to kill me if I don't at least _attempt _to help her be a responsible Prefect (yeah, right).

"Kate," I whisper, nudging her again. "Wake up."

She does. Finally. She groans and mumbles something else as she forces her eyes open. When she finally makes eye contact with me, her voice comes out groggy and slightly incoherent. "What time is it?"

"Fifteen after."

"Fifteen after what?"

"Eight," I say quietly, biting back a smile at the way her eyes immediately fly open and double to twice their normal size.

"Are you _kidding _me?!" she gasps out, sitting straight up and staring at me like I've gone completely mad. "Why the _hell _didn't you wake me up?!"

I roll onto my back and look up at her. Without even thinking about it, I reach a hand out to run my fingertips across the small band of skin of her lower back that's exposed by the way her pajama shirt rides up just slightly. She shivers a little bit but glares down at me in annoyance.

"You looked so tired," I explain softly, trying to sweet talk her the best I know how.

Kate groans and rolls her eyes. Throwing her hands over her face, I hear her frustrated tone. "I'm going to be late for class, and I don't know _how _I'm going to sneak out of here with no one seeing, and-"

I grab her arm and successfully tug her hands away from her face and pull her back down to the bed with me. "Let's just skive off," I suggest brightly, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her closer.

"James, I am a _Prefect," _she says flatly. "I don't _skive."_

"Please," I beg gently. "I just want to spend time with you…"

"The NEWTs are just a couple of months away-"

"_Please." _Her head turns, and I can tell by the look on her face that I've nearly got her. "Just the morning classes?"

"James…"

I effectively shut her up by rolling over just enough to barely hover over her. I kiss her, softly at first and then a bit more aggressively. It doesn't occur to me to be worried about morning breath or any of the other silly nonsense that people concern themselves with. She doesn't seem to mind, either, because she kisses me back.

"Okay, just the morning classes…" she agrees breathlessly when I move my lips down her jaw and to her neck. She's already got one love bite she's been trying to hide for the past couple of days, I could give her another. I don't think she'd mind.

"Good," I answer, removing my lips from her neck just enough to look up into her eyes, "because do you know what today is?"

"Wednesday?" she asks, raising one eyebrow at me in confusion.

"It's our anniversary."

"What anniversary?"

"Our one month." I look at her for a second, and then she bursts into laughter.

"Oh, my god, you're such a girl!" She continues to crack up, but I can tell that she's secretly flattered and impressed.

"If you aren't concerned, I'll send the gift back," I reply as nonchalantly as possible as I prop myself up a bit better.

_This _gets her, and her eyes light up immediately. "There're presents?" she asks excitedly.

"_Present," _I correct her. "One gift for one month."

"So next month, I get two gifts, right?"

I laugh and roll across her to get at the bedside table. I had to send off for it, since the only Hogsmeade weekend we've had lately involved her being stuck to my hip. But it's been in there for a few nights now, a tiny wrapped box with a manufactured tied bow. I push the drawer back closed and then turn back over to hand her the gift.

She's excited, and she takes it eagerly as she pushes herself into a slightly sitting position. She isn't careful with the bow and makes no pretense of ripping the paper open with her bright purple nails.

"It's just a bracelet," I say quickly before she even has time to see what it is. She pulls it out of the box and holds it up for examination. I suddenly feel very nervous…

Kate smiles, though, a perfect little smile with perfect little teeth. Her eyes dance happily as she looks from the bracelet to me. "It's so pretty! Thanks!"

I repress the urge to let out a sigh of relief. In these situations, I'm sure it's always best to play it as cool as possible. She actually _does _appear to like it, which is nice, considering the fact that it was expensive as fuck. And also, of course, considering the fact that the most I've ever bought a girl in my entire life was a coffee (and that was only done by accident).

"_You're _pretty," I butter her up quickly, knowing that things can only get better now that she's got jewelry in her hands. I know enough about girls to see _that. _

She grins, almost shyly. She holds her wrist out, and thankfully I'm intelligent enough to realize that she wants me to help her with the bracelet. I do, and she thanks me by assaulting me with her lips. Her fingers work their way into my hair as she moves on top of me, and her knees are on either side of my hips.

She's always been the most fantastic kisser, and things haven't changed. I grab her face and tilt it just enough to get the best angle. We have everything down to a perfect rhythm, but I swear that sometimes I think I like just this snogging bit as much as the rest. She's just so _good _at it.

I get lost in kissing her, and eventually my hands start wandering. Down her neck and over her shoulders, back up to her neck and then around to her back. They drift lower and lower until I find the same span of skin that I brushed earlier in the night. This time she doesn't glare at me, though, she just decides turnabout's fair play and starts trying to give _me _a love bite. I don't protest at all, in fact, I hope she _does _manage one. Her skin is warm as always, and I love the way she sort of softly moans into my neck as I brush my fingertips across her lower back. Well, there's only one place for the hands to go now, and when she moves back up to my mouth, they move on down to her arse. For a second, I toy with the material of her pajama bottoms, but in the end, I slip both hands under the waist band of her shorts. It's hardly fair that I'm practically already starkers just from waking up and she's still got so many clothes on, but it's alright, I suppose. Sometimes clothes are as sexy as skin. I know Kate notices my hands' newfound placement because the pressure in her kiss increases tenfold, and her hips shift against me seemingly of their own accord.

I have a feeling we're going to miss afternoon lessons as well…

When we finally make it downstairs, classes are done for the day, and it's time for Quidditch. Kate claims she has to study, since I made her miss all her lessons for the day. I reluctantly let her go after grabbing her and kissing her for about four minutes. She laughs and promises to see me later before turning the corner down the corridor toward Ravenclaw. I watch her go, only _slightly_ horrified to realize that I wasn't exaggerating with the reluctance to let her leave. It's awful to be so dependent on someone else, I know, but Kate makes me forget about _everything. _Every shitty thing in my life just goes away whenever she's around to distract me. I don't know how she does it, but I certainly can't complain.

I try not to think about what a fucking sap I've turned into as I make my way down to the pitch. Even Quidditch doesn't sound as tempting as going back up to my room with Kate, but I suppose it'll do. We _do _need to get in as much training as possible before the spring match. My team still hates me and apparently _still _doesn't think I'm fair in expecting them to up their game and bring the best, but I don't know why I should expect anything less. I put them on the team for a reason, they need to realize that and live up to it.

I pass a group of Fourth Year girls who all straighten up immediately as I pass, some of them even flip their stupid hair over their shoulders to try to appear attractive. They all burst into giggles as soon as I'm past, despite the fact that I've ignored them all. I'm not surprised anyway, girls always act like that- giggling and hair-flipping and just overall annoyance. It's pathetic.

I pass another little group of girls and recognize them as Gryffindors. Third and a couple of Fourth Years. They all look 'round at me, too, and I prepare to ignore them just as I ignored the other ones, but I'm stopped when a hand reaches out to grab my elbow. I almost curse the little girl out, but then I realize it's my sister.

"Where are you going?" she asks, glancing back at her friends as she extracts herself from the little group.

"To practice. Why, what's up?"

Lily frowns and glances back at the other girls once more before walking me away from them. "I got a letter from Dad."

I can tell by the tone of her voice that this isn't a good thing. She looks like shit, too, not that I'll tell her this, of course. She's very sensitive about things like that. But her hair is stringy and limp, and her skin is far paler than usual; she almost looks ill. "And what did he say?"

"He bought a flat."

I just look at her, wondering what she wants me to say. I don't know what she _expects _me to say. So I just look at her.

"In London," she goes on, apparently not caring that I don't respond. "He bought a flat in London. Not just rented, _bought."_

"Did he happen to tell you who he's fucking or why he decided to ruin his marriage?"

The words come out harsher than I mean, and I almost feel bad when Lily looks hurt. I don't know why I'm such a bastard all the time, it just comes out naturally. Usually Lily's immune to it, though, but she seems ultra-sensitive about this particular subject.

"He didn't cheat on her," she says fiercely, and her eyes narrow at me.

"How do you know?"

"Because he wouldn't do that!" The narrowed eyes now flash, and she looks more angry than anything else. "And you shouldn't say that, either!"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I happen to think it's a very real possibility. Maybe she doesn't realize just how _easy _it would be for him to have an affair, or even multiple affairs. I'm quite sure that there are _plenty _of women who would give their left arm to jump into bed with him. After all, he _is _Harry Potter, and that in itself speaks volumes when it comes to gold-diggers and homewreckers. I just don't see why if he wanted to have an affair that he would be stupid enough to get caught. _That's _the part that pisses me off the most, not the fact that he_ did _it so much but the fact that he let it fuck up our whole family.

Not that it wasn't already fucked up enough.

I almost tell Lily to humor me with her speculation on what caused the _Fall of the Potters, _but even _I _can't be mean to her when she looks like that. Her angry eyes have now started watering, and she's very obviously thisclose to bursting into tears. She's about the only crying girl I'm normally able to handle, mostly because nine times out of ten, she's bawling in an under-handed attempt to get her way about something. And nine times out of ten, it works. Now, though, I can tell she isn't faking and that she is honestly upset about the possible impending doom of our parents' marriage.

So I give her a hug.

See? I'm not _that _horrible. She _is _my little sister, after all. I do worry about her, and I even show visible concern on occasion. I'm not made of stone after all. Believe it or not, I _do _care about a few people in this world. So I reach out to her, and she wraps herself up in my arms immediately, pressing her face into my chest and shaking a little bit. I glance over her head at the group of her friends that are still gathered a few feet away. They look shocked by the sudden gesture, but when they notice me looking, they quickly glance away and start walking in the other direction.

I doubt Lily wants to start crying in the middle of one of the main corridors, so I pull back away from her gently and wrap an arm around her shoulder instead. She keeps both of her arms locked around my waist, but she lets me walk her away from the little crowd that's gathered to watch. I try to make note of every nosey sod that's got their nose in our business so that I can kick their arses later, but there're too many.

She's crying by the time we make it outside. It's cold, and she doesn't have a coat or a cloak. She's still dressed in her school clothes. I'm just in my warm-ups myself, but I can probably handle the wind better than she can. I hurry with her down to the changing room and bring her inside. I'm a bit early and the first to arrive, so the changing area is empty when we get there. I guide her over to the benches and sit down with her, she doesn't let go of me.

"Lily," I say quietly, I really have no idea what to say. "Hey, look." I pull back just a bit from her and try to see her face. It's tear-streaked, and she looks exactly like the little girl she's tried so hard to abandon lately. It almost makes me miss the days when she used to just be fun and sweet and not the demanding, over-dramatic brat that she's turned into. The problem, of course, is that she doesn't look fun and sweet at all; she looks positively _miserable._

"Don't cry over them, okay?" I try to be as gentle as possible, but it's obviously a bit difficult, as I'm not generally the _gentle _type. "They're not even worth it."

"Yes, they are!" she protests, and her voice cracks in the form of a hiccough. "Why are they doing this to us?"

"They're doing it to themselves," I say. "It's got nothing to do with us."

"But _why?" _She's whining now, but I can't even force myself to be annoyed. "What if it's something we did?"

"Look," I tell her firmly, taking her shoulders in my hands. "They're responsible for themselves, okay? Nothing any of us do controls how they act."

I wonder if it makes them happy that their thirteen year old daughter thinks she's responsible for breaking up their marriage. She's just a kid for fuck's sake. They're such selfish arseholes. I don't know how they can live with themselves.

"But they won't even tell us what happened!"

"Yeah, because they're both shit," I cut the gentle pretense. "That's why you don't need to waste your tears on them. _They _did this, _they _have to be the ones to fix it."

Lily nods a tiny bit, but she just starts crying even more. I hug her again, and this time, she only cries harder. Her tears are wetting up my shirt, but I don't mind. I pat her head a little in a very big brothery type manner, and she hugs me even more tightly. I'm glad that she's just being herself for once and that she knows she can still come to me when she's got a problem. Sometimes I feel guilty because I think I must be a pretty shit older brother, especially to Lily because she's never really done anything to me, but I'm glad that she knows that when it comes down to it that I'm here for her when she needs something.

Of course, watching her cry like this just makes me hate my parents even more.

--

A/N: Thank you for the feedback on the last chapter. I'm glad it shed some light on a lot of questions that you guys obviously have. I'm not going to promise that Harry's point of view will be involved, but I won't give an absolute no, either. So… we'll see! Please let me know how you feel about this one, too. Feedback is adored and appreciated, of course!


	34. Rose, NotSoHappily Ever After

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 34

**ROSE, NOT-SO-HAPPILY EVER AFTER**

--

_Dear Rose,_

_I hope you are doing well in school and that things aren't too hectic. I remember the months leading up to the OWLs, and they certainly weren't fun. I hope that you are pacing yourself and following a schedule, rather than trying to do too much at once. Remember to take breaks and to distract yourself with other things occasionally._

_As important as your tests are, though, I'm mainly writing for another reason. I know that you and your brother and cousins must be really confused about everything that is going on. I know that every day seems to bring new rumors, but you have to trust me when I tell you to do your best to ignore all of the so-called "news" that the papers are printing. I also want you to know that I've talked to both Harry and Ginny, and I've told them that I think they need to go to Hogwarts and talk to their kids about what's going on. I told them how confused and frustrated everyone must be, but they say it isn't a conversation they want to have that way, they'd rather wait for the Easter holidays. I don't agree with them, but it's ultimately their decision. It's also not my place to spread their business, but I want to assure you that the things you're reading aren't true. There were no affairs, and there are no South African love children. So while I can't tell you everything, I think it's important that you at least know that much, whether Harry and Ginny like it or not. Feel free to share it with your brother and cousins._

_Also, I really want to stress to you the importance of being careful with whom you talk to. I'm sure you've heard about the new Rita Skeeter book that's recently been published. I want you to know first off that that woman has had it out for our family since we were just children, and she apparently still has some sort of score to settle. However, I did read bits of her book, just to see what lies she was spreading this time around. I don't know who her so-called "close sources" are, as she never once names them, but unfortunately, the bits of the book that I read were surprisingly rather accurate. This worries me, of course, because it means that someone close was probably tricked into revealing private information. You have to be very careful with who you trust and how you say things. With everything that's happening with Harry and Ginny, not to mention the election, the media is going to be grasping at anything and everything they can get their hands on. We all have to be extra careful._

_Things are okay here, pretty much the same as always. Dad is helping Harry get settled into the new flat, and I'm working on six cases plus the election all at the same time. Landon is enjoying being three by getting into anything and everything. He is an absolute mess, and he's getting so mean! I still don't know how he managed it, but he somehow shattered the last rung of the banister into about a million different pieces. Your dad and I tried and tried, but we can't fix it. I guess it's just a lost cause, and now we'll have to replace the entire thing. He's doing that a lot lately- breaking things just to see them fixed. Nana kept him the other day, and I'm surprised she hadn't beat him to death by the time I picked him up. Apparently, he broke dishes all day long and couldn't understand why she couldn't just magically fix them back. You were the same way when you were that age. It confused you and frustrated you to no end that Nana and Pops couldn't simply do things the magical way, you couldn't understand it. Hugo, of course, was completely oblivious, but I'm sure that doesn't surprise you! _

_Anyway, though, I should probably go and do some work. Please remember everything I said and pass it along to Hugo, James, Al, Lily, and Louis. I hope everything works out, but all we can do at this point is wait. Good luck with your studies, and remember to take some time and just have fun. I love you. See you soon!_

_Love,_

_Mum_

After reading my mother's letter, I actually do feel a bit better. I'm glad to at least know a little bit about what's going on, even though she obviously can't tell me everything. I'm happy that no one had an affair at least, especially since that seems to be the general consensus in all the gossip that I hear and read. Even James thinks so, and he makes no secret of it, either. When I told him what Mum said, he just sort of shrugged me off and went back to working on Quidditch plays. It was one of the few times I've been able to catch him lately, as he's constantly either off with Kate somewhere or holed up in a corner somewhere trying to eat her face. I honestly can't believe it's lasted this long- more than a month now. And James seems absolutely perfectly content with the situation. More than that, though, he's so freaking _nice _to her. He opens doors for her and he constantly gives her compliments and he always carries things for her. If I didn't know better, I'd say he's just about completely whipped.

Actually, I think he is.

He doesn't seem to care, either. I know he's got to be catching _hell _from his mates, but it doesn't seem to faze him. If someone makes a comment, he simply gives them the ol' two finger salute and has done with it. Kate, for what it's worth, doesn't take advantage of it. I'm sure she could make him do just about anything in the world, but she doesn't. And she doesn't go around flaunting the fact that he's her boyfriend, either. I'm sure there are plenty of girls who would be absolutely sickening if given the chance to actually be called his girlfriend, but Kate acts pretty much just like she always has- he just holds her hand in public now. I even heard him call her Katie once… I wonder if she can get away with Jamie.

It was nice to see him alone, though, working on something that didn't involve Kate's mouth. Of course, the only thing that would catch his attention otherwise _would _be Quidditch. He's really caught up on this, and I know he's working extra hard because there're scouts coming to the spring matches. I'm sure he'll have absolutely no trouble whatsoever, given his name and the fact that he actually _is _pretty amazing at it.

Scorpius is pretty damn amazing at it, too. I guess I never really noticed before, probably because the only times I even remotely pay attention to Quidditch are when Gryffindor is playing. And up until now, every time Gryffindor's played Slytherin, I've obviously always been rooting for Al to get the Snitch and not paid much notice to Scorpius or any of the other Slytherin players. I'm paying attention now, though, and last weekend when Slytherin absolutely _crushed _Ravenclaw, I couldn't help but give a little yell that earned me more than a few Looks of Death from various members of my House. The unspoken rule that we're supposed to hate Slytherins no matter what was apparently violated by my little cheer, so I promptly shut up. But he really _is _good. I don't fully understand the draw to Quidditch, but he loves it- so that sort of makes it easier for me to like it.

And no, I don't know what's going on. I don't try to label any of it, and I certainly don't like talking about it. It just is what it is, and so what if I happen to like it? And like him. He's nicer than anyone I've ever met in my entire life, and I know that maybe that doesn't sound like something I'd really be into, seeing as how I'm not _exactly _the nicest person alive… And he's really smart, too, which obviously I appreciate, but he still needs my help sometimes, which is nice. And he _listens _to me. I feel like I can tell him anything, and that sort of scares me a little bit because the only other person I've ever felt _that _comfortable with is Al. It frightens me a little because I don't really open up to people normally, not like that anyway. I have major trust issues, and if years of therapy haven't fixed that, you can see why I'm a little shocked and concerned and even scared that I suddenly find it so easy to talk to somebody who was little more than a stranger just a few months ago. But I can't help it, I _trust _him. I don't know how, but I _know _that I could probably tell him anything in the world and he would keep my secrets.

And yes, that terrifies me.

I really like him, way more than is probably healthy for a girl of my limited mental stability. Hell, _way, way _more than is probably _safe _for a Weasley to like a Malfoy. That in itself is just ludicrous. My dad would absolutely _murder _me if he ever even_ suspected _I was spending my evenings shut up in a library study room making out with Draco Malfoy's son. I can't even imagine the reaction, _that's _how bad it is. Mum… well, I don't know what Mum would do, but I am quite sure it wouldn't be pleasant. And my parents are probably _cake _compared to what Scorpius would catch at home if we were found out… So yes, that's why we have to be as secretive and under wraps as possible.

It sort of sucks, I suppose, that we can't even touch each other in public. James and Kate can go through the halls hand in hand and wrapped in each other's arms, but Scorpius and I can't even sit beside each other in class without drawing attention to it. Sometimes we do, though, sit beside each other, I mean. We try to make it look like an accident, but, of course, it never is. Those are my favorite lessons, though I do find it terribly difficult to concentrate on the lecture. We spend most of that time passing notes back and forth. We have to do that as inconspicuously as possible because I can't imagine what would happen if one of those notes was intercepted by the professor.

We shared a table last Thursday in Potions, and Scorpius spent the entire lesson whispering quietly and secretly in my ear as we mixed ingredients. I can't even tell you how great that was because I'm so embarrassed just thinking about how much I liked it and how I wished so badly that we had double Potions that day. But we didn't. That night in the library, though, I let him whisper to me for hours.

That's another thing about Scorpius that's almost too good to be true- he's perfectly content with things like whispering.

Obviously we've done a little bit more than _that. _We kiss and sometimes do a _tiny _bit of touching, but for the most part, everything is still very innocent. He isn't like other boys; it's like he doesn't realize that he's supposed to be genetically wired to push for a lot more. He doesn't push at all. Whenever we _do _drift towards the line of going further than just kissing, it's always me who gets us there. I don't know if that makes me a slag necessarily, but apparently I'm much more of a normal teenage boy than he is. It's nice, though, not to have to worry about things like that. The last boy I dated was definitely a lot more aggressive and pushy about that sort of thing, so it's definitely a nice change to know that Scorpius isn't going to try to push anything on me that I don't _want _pushed.

He is getting really good at kissing, though. I'm the only girl he's ever kissed in his life, but I must be teaching him well because I'm at the point now where whenever I'm _not _kissing him, all I'm doing is _thinking _about kissing him. I get distracted thinking about ways to get him to do more, too. Sometimes I just want to throw him down on the floor and take advantage of him, but obviously I don't because I don't want him to think I'm a whore or something.

So I just make myself content with the kissing and the minor touching. And the whispering. I love the whispering.

He's at Quidditch practice now, and I'm half-tempted to go down to the pitch and watch from the stands. I don't, of course, because _that _would bring more than a bit of attention. And attention's not something I can afford to have. So instead, I'm taking the opportunity to actually put the library to proper use n several weeks. I've got my books spread out in front of me, and I'm making a study outline so that I can make sure I get to everything without forgetting any bits. I'm just to the Transfiguration part when I hear familiar voices approaching. I don't have to look up to see who it is.

Al and JD are arguing over something (Quidditch-related, I'm quite positive), and they aren't exercising their indoor library voices very well at all. I think about scolding them, but then I remember that my cousin isn't speaking to me, so I decide it's best just to ignore them. They seem to be employing the same strategy, as neither of them give me a second glance when they pass by on their way towards the medicinal section. I've no idea what they're researching, but I assume it probably has something to do with the healing project that's due for Neville in three days. Never mind the fact that he assigned it three _months _ago… I'm not surprised at all that they're just now doing their research.

I do my best to ignore them, despite the fact that they are being rather loud and obnoxious. I keep my attention focused on my outline and think about all the things that I need to do before the OWLs. I haven't been very devoted to my studying lately, as I've been rather distracted by certain other people and activities. I do need to straighten up and focus.

But _damn _if those two bastards don't _shut up._

Madame Laurence appears, and she goes straight over to them. I can't hear everything she's saying, but it's easy to tell that she's blessing them out about disturbing others and breaking quiet library rules. But they don't get in trouble, of course, because Al is there, and Al never gets in trouble. It's one of the perks of being a Potter.

She leaves them alone, and they both make faces as soon as her back's turned. JD grabs a book off the shelf and thrusts it at Al who looks down at the cover and shakes his head before shoving it _back _onto the shelf. This goes on for awhile. I try to focus on my work, but it's difficult because they're so bloody distracting. Finally, they decide on a couple of books and take them up to the desk for check out. Madame Laurence watches them ruefully over the top of her glasses, but she gives them their books without any other issues.

They shove each other a bit (much to the librarian's disapproving looks) as they make their way back toward the exit. They have to pass my table again, and I hurry and try to look busy so that I don't have to look at them. I can feel them both looking at me, though, and I keep my head ducked as they mumble something to each other. When I _do _sneak a glance up, I see Al passing off his half of the books to JD who takes them and continues toward the exit.

Al, though, hesitates a second and then double-backs toward my table.

I look all the way up when he slides a chair out across from me and falls into it. His glasses are crooked like they usually are, and his hair clearly hasn't seen a comb in a week. He doesn't say anything for a minute, just sort of looks at me.

"What do you want?" I finally ask. He hasn't done anything but glare at me for the past three months, and now suddenly he's sitting here staring at me and disturbing my studying.

"Lily told me what your mum said," he says quietly. It's a far cry from the obnoxious teenage boy shtick that he was putting on with JD.

I shrug dismissively. It reminds me of James's reaction when I filled him in.

Al doesn't say anything for a second, then finally, "Do you think she's telling the truth?"

"Why wouldn't she be?" My voice is snappier than I mean for it to be. Or maybe I _do _mean for it to be that snappy.

"I don't know. Maybe she is just protecting them…"

"Protecting them from what? They obviously don't care what you or anyone else thinks because they haven't even _tried _to given an explanation. My mum's the only one who's being even remotely honest."

He knows it's the truth, but I can still tell that I piss him off just a bit with the slight jab at his parents. He ignores it, though. He just sits there silently. And it's fucking _annoying._

"Is there a reason you suddenly decided to speak to me?" I ask hatefully.

He sort of glares at me for a second, but then he looks down at the table. I can't tell what he's thinking, and that bothers me more than it should. I can usually see every thought in his head, but maybe that's over.

Finally, after a million seconds pass, he mumbles, "Maybe we should stop fighting."

I stare at him, certain that I've heard him wrong or something. He eventually looks up, and I still can't read him.

"So just like that?" I ask incredulously. "You just stop hating me, just like that?"

"I don't hate you," he says quietly. "You know that."

The hell I do! He's done a pretty damn good job of acting if he doesn't hate me. I stare at him in shock with absolutely no words.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he mumbles. "I shouldn't have blamed you."

He's _sorry? _He doesn't speak to me for _three months, _and he's _sorry?! _

"You're damn right you shouldn't have blamed me!" I snap, drawing a very loud shushing from the librarian.

"I said I was sorry!"

I slump back in my chair and cross my arms, glaring at him for a bit. "So what? Now you think we'll just go back to being best friends?"

His cheek twitches, and he shoves his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He is nervous, obviously, but he somehow manages to say, "I think we should try…"

I want to be a bitch and be evil, but something inside of me is so insanely _happy _to hear that that it's impossible to say anything mean. I stare at him for a little while longer, making sure that he isn't just playing a horrid prank on me. He isn't, though, I can tell by his face.

So I just say, "Okay."

It's amazing how things flip in that instance. Suddenly, it's like the last three months didn't even happen. We're laughing and joking. Then he tells me everything that happened with Meghan, and I sympathize with him for a bit. We move on and start talking about his parents and what complete arseholes they are. I tell him everything Mum told me in detail…

And then I realize I can finally tell someone the biggest secret of all.

"I've got a secret," I tell him seriously, looking in every direction to make sure no one's listening. It's getting sort of late, so the library is pretty much emptying out by now. "You can't tell anyone."

"Okay."

"_No one," _I say seriously. "Promise you won't."

"I promise."

"Swear on Lily Potter's grave."

He looks at me in mild horror and confusion. I roll my eyes.

"The _dead _one, not the alive one," I clarify. Idiot.

"Oh!" And then after he's sworn on his grandmother's grave, I finally break the news.

"I'm dating Scorpius Malfoy."

The shocked look I get in response is expected, I guess, but three minutes pass, and he's still just staring at me in astonishment. His mouth is actually open, jaw dropped and everything. Finally, I move on.

"Well, not dating probably," I clarify. "I don't really know what it is."

"You've kissed him?" Al asks, his voice tinged in horror, his face still shocked.

I nod. "Yeah…"

"Have you…" his voice trails off, and he wrinkles his nose. He looks at me for an answer to his unasked question.

"No!" I say immediately. "Of course not." This seems to appease him momentarily, and he nods slowly. "But I see him every night."

Al shakes his head, obviously trying to either shake sense into the situation or remove an unpleasant image from his brain. "But _why, _Rose? _Scorpius Malfoy?? _You're parents are going to shit!"

"Shut up!" I hiss at him dangerously, jerking my head in every conceivable direction. Thankfully no one is around. "Yes, I know they're going to shit," I say dully. "That's why they can't find out."

Al frowns, I can tell there's a lot he wants to say that he's refraining from. He sighs and shakes his head again. "Are you just doing this to piss them off?"

Him saying that bothers me, mostly because it cements the fact that I'm an evil bitch. Al, despite our recent disagreement, knows me better than anyone else in the world, and he caught that motive immediately. But that's not what it's about anymore, and I tell him so.

"No, I really like him," I say quietly, scaring myself just a bit by saying it out loud.

Al just stares at me. His cheek twitches again, and he shakes his head slowly. "You're going to be in so much trouble…"

I drop my face forward onto the table and mumble, "I know." And I _do _know.

Suddenly my brief glimpse at happily ever after doesn't look so happy…

--

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I'm glad people are beginning to appreciate James a bit more. Now, for this chapter, I know it seems a little rushed, but in my head, that's exactly how these characters would get over it. It would be very sudden and with very little argument- they both know each other so well that they wouldn't need to spend a lot of time on explanations and apologies (even though Rose is a bitch and would rather make him sweat it out a bit- she can't because she wants things back to normal as much as he does). It was important to me that they also fall right back into their old ways because that's what happens when two people are that close- they can have the biggest falling out in the world and then go straight back into being best friends (or at least some people can). I hope you all didn't hate it, and I look forward to hearing your feedback!


	35. Scorpius, Confessions

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 35

**SCORPIUS, CONFESSIONS**

--

"Grey serpent, red eyes… rises from a fire?" Rose looks at me over the top of her Care of Magical Creatures book. She's impatient, of course, because I don't immediately know the answer.

"Umm… a phoenix?" I guess lamely.

She rolls her eyes. "I said a _serpent, _not a _bird!"_

I just look at her.

"Leaves a trail of _ashes_ behind…" The way she trails her voice lets me know that she's supposedly given me a hint, though, of course, I still don't have a clue. "They only live an hour… their eggs can burn down a house!"

"Rose, I don't know." I give up. She groans and reaches out a foot to kick my shin. Ow.

"An _ashwinder, _you idiot!"

I rub absently at my now bruised shin and mutter darkly. "Why does it have to be comprehensive anyway?"

"Because the OWLs are designed to test all the knowledge you've learned in every subject. They're supposed to determine which upper-level classes you're ready for."

"Let me guess, I'm not ready for upper Care of Magical Creatures, right?"

Rose rolls her eyes. "Honestly, it's about the easiest class we've got, I don't know _why _you're having so much trouble."

"Easy for _you," _I correct. "The professor was at your freaking _birth."_

"No, he wasn't," she huffs immediately. "And anyway, that's beside the point. Hagrid's got nothing to do with the fact that you don't open his book to study."

Ugh. I want to say that he's got _everything _to do with it because I'm very sure I wouldn't be _nearly _as lost if I had a competent instructor. However, I know Rose loves that giant idiot, and she'd probably kill me if I said a bad word against him. So I don't. Instead, I just reach out and grab her book. I flip randomly through the pages and read the first definition.

"Silver fish found in the Indian oce-"

"Ramora," she cuts me off before I can even finish the sentence.

Oh, bollocks. I slam the book shut and shove it across the table. "I'm not taking that class next year anyway," I say matter-of-factly.

Rose, though, just smirks and raises her eyebrows. "Oh, I can guarantee that…"

I wish I stood a chance against her at a duel because I'd _love_ to hex her right about now. Unfortunately, I'm not nearly stupid enough to think I'd have even a chance of living through it, and I'm not ready to die at fifteen.

Rose doesn't push the issue of Care of Magical Creatures anymore. Apparently, she's resigned herself to the fact that I suck at it and doesn't feel that wasting her breath trying to tutor me would be a productive use of her time. Instead, she kicks her foot out again, but this time, instead of kicking my shin, she lets the foot drop into my lap. I don't mind, not at all actually. She slouches back in her chair and reaches up to take the ribbon from her hair. That's a clear sign that she's done studying- she pulls her hair up for concentration, when she's done, she lets it down.

Rose's hair isn't really like anything else I've ever seen. It's completely out of control and insane- weird how so much of her is reflected in that hair… The shorter it is, the bushier it is. Right now, it's pretty long, and the length of it is weighting down her curls, smoothing them out a bit and making them less thick. I don't think she's cut her hair since before school started, as it's now almost to her waist. It's nice like this, long, I like it. The color is something else to be marveled at. She's hardly the only redhead in this school- after all, her family _does _make up a good portion of Gryffindor's population. But still, I don't know, it just looks the best on her, but maybe I'm biased. Before she talked to me, I used to spend hours of class time staring at her hair and wondering what it would feel like to touch it. I know now, it's softer than anything else, and it smells like lemons, even though she swears she doesn't use lemon-scented shampoo. Yes, I know- I'm creepy.

"Did you see what Susie was wearing at dinner?" she asks out of nowhere, running her fingers absently through her curls in an attempt to untangle them. "I mean, seriously, does she _really _think that's appropriate?"

I tried to remember if I'd noticed Susannah at dinner. I didn't normally pay her much attention, as I actually found her a bit annoying. I did see her at dinner, though; she was sitting with Justin, of course, and they were being as disgustingly obnoxious as ever. I can't picture what she was wearing, though, so I just shake my head in response to Rose's question.

She makes a disgusted sort of noise. "She looked like a complete slag. I can't believe he doesn't have a problem with that."

I can. Justin isn't exactly the most well-mannered person I've ever met. He probably enjoys watching his girlfriend dress up like a whore and parade herself around the Great Hall. That's assuming, of course, that she actually _was _dressed inappropriately. Rose certainly has a sort of personal vendetta against Susannah and all the rest of her roommates, so she probably looks at things rather skewed.

She seems to be even more begrudging of them lately, and I think it's probably got to do with the fact that she's made amends with her cousin. They're back to being best friends again, and he must have told her something (I'm assuming about Meghan Thomas, but I haven't asked) that's given her even more reason to hate them than before. On the flip side of that, her cousin hates _me. _Not that he's ever come out and said it, of course, but he doesn't miss an opportunity to shoot me glares or warning looks that clearly say, "_I'll murder you." _Tale as old as time, I suppose- or at least as old as our fathers- Potters and Malfoys have to hate each other. Truthfully, I've never had any problem with him before, and I don't think he's ever had any with me (minus Quidditch, of course). His brother's a bit (very much so) a prick, and his little sister seems like she'd be annoying if I ever took the time to speak to her. But as far as Al, he's never really seemed to have much problem with me.

Until now.

I know that he's her best friend and that she claims they've never in their entire lives kept a secret from each other. Completely honest since birth, that's the way she phrased it. Still, though, I wish she'd decide to keep _some _things from him- like _this. _I know he's just looking out for her, and I guess I can't really blame him. I'm sure he doesn't think I'd willingly put my own life, trust fund, and family name at risk unless there was some ulterior motive, but there's really not. I just like her. A lot. And she likes me, too. I guess that's not enough for him.

After months of not speaking to her, he's now hard-pressed to leave her alone. He makes sure to sit with her in every single class, effectively cutting off any chance _I _might have at sharing her table, and he's apparently formulated some master plan of convincing her that he needs help with his OWLs, making sure she tutors him almost every single night. That's just a low blow because he knows that shit like that is her weakness. He _knows _that she'd put everything else in the world on hold if she thought he wanted to study and needed her help. After all, she _loves _helping people with their studying. Of course, I know this and know it's such a low blow because it's the original scheme I myself employed several months ago. And it worked spectacularly. Rose still makes time to help _me _study as well, though, even though we rarely open our books anymore. Tonight is a fluke, based mostly off the fact that I actually _failed _the last test we had in Care of Magical Creatures. Apparently that gave her motivation to make sure I didn't fail my OWL as well.

But now she's done.

Whatever grudge her cousin has against me is apparently his and his alone. She doesn't seem to care about his opinion, at least not to the point of letting it change anything between us. Not that I really _know _what's between us, considering the fact that we don't ever have that particular conversation. I don't suppose it matters anyway. Even if she were to say I was her boyfriend (which she definitely has not), it's not like I can ever really even _speak _to her in public, much less do anything else like hold her hand or put an arm over her shoulders. We have to be completely secretive about everything, so I guess I have no choice but to be content with this set up. I can't complain, though, it's still a lot more than I ever thought I'd get.

"So what do you want to do now?" she asks, and I can tell she's trying her best to be coy. Of course, neither one of us are exactly skilled at such things as being coy, but if I can at least tell what her intentions are, then I guess that's what matters.

I shrug. "I dunno." _I want to hold your hand and walk you back to Gryffindor._

Rose sighs loudly and dramatically. Her foot ticks side to side and hits the top of my leg impatiently. She doesn't care for boredom much, her brain works too quickly to indulge that.

"Well, since you don't want to study…"

"I didn't say I don't want to study," I correct her immediately. "I just don't want to study _this." _I thump the stupid text book in front of me out of contempt.

"Too bad that's what you _need _to study," she huffs. She doesn't harp on it, though; instead she starts spinning her wand on top of the desk, watching as it goes in circles.

I reach out and stop it.

She looks up at me as my hand covers hers, but she doesn't say anything and she doesn't jerk her hand away. In fact, she turns it over, so that her palm faces up directly against mine. And then she smiles.

"Tell me a secret."

I frown at her uncomfortably. "I don't know any."

"Tell me one about _you."_

I don't want to play this game. It's not that I don't _trust _her, but I don't like to talk about myself. It makes me feel weird, and I don't need a lot of help at feeling extra weird around her. When I don't say anything, she lifts her other foot and places it in my lap as well. I unconsciously catch it with my free hand.

"I didn't know my father was a Death Eater until I started Hogwarts." I don't know why I say this, and immediately, I wish I could put the words back into my mouth and swallow them. But, of course, I can't.

Rose looks up at me in slight alarm. She isn't quick enough to hide the horrified look on her face, though she does try to banish it a second later. She swallows, and when she finally speaks, I can tell she's fishing for a response to make the situation better. "But he wasn't a _real _Death Eater, was he?"

I shrug, and I look down at the table. I don't want to see her reaction to my next confession. I don't even know why I'm saying any of this. "He was supposed to kill Albus Dumbledore."

I might not see the reaction, but with one of my hands covering her own and the other resting on her ankles, I can _feel _the shock in the way her whole body tenses. After a second, I can hear her swallow, and she says, "But he didn't."

I shrug yet again. "Only because he was too scared."

"Maybe he wasn't too scared," she contradicts me. "Maybe he just knew it was wrong."

"You give him too much credit."

I don't mean to sound so bitter. In fact, I'm not even sure where the sudden bitterness is coming from. I don't hold a lot of grudges against my father. He may not be winning any awards anytime soon, but he at least tries, I suppose. And I've always just accepted it for what it is. However, I guess I _do _hold a bit of a grudge over that particular aspect. More than anything, I hold a grudge over the fact that he never bothered to _tell _me any of it. I found out he was a Death Eater because some idiots in my dorm told me when I was a First Year. None of _them _had Death Eater _parents, _only grandparents and other older family associates. _I _was the only one with a Death Eater father. At first, I tried to pretend like it wasn't true, but then an old conversation I'd overheard between my parents crept into my mind, and I realized they were telling the truth. But I'd heard it with my own ears years before and had never put it together- my father told my mother that he was supposed to kill _Albus Dumbledore _and that he very nearly did.

And then I stopped listening.

Rose has to take a second to figure out what she wants to say next, but I can tell by the tone of her voice that she is trying to make things less tense. "Well, I didn't even know my parents were famous until I started Hogwarts."

I find this hard to believe, for many different reasons, of course. I stare at her in shock. "How could you not know that?"

She shrugs. "I knew a little bit, I guess, but I didn't have any idea the _extent _of it. They never really told us anything, and we live in a Muggle neighborhood. When I was growing up, the only people I knew were Muggles and my family. And I guess my parents' friends, too. But none of them ever made a big deal over it, so I didn't really realize, I guess."

"Did you go to a Muggle school?"

"No, my mum just taught us at home. She wanted to send us to school, I think, but my dad didn't want to. I think they were scared that we might accidentally bring attention to ourselves that way or something, I don't know. My mother went to Muggle school, of course, all the way up until she started Hogwarts. I guess she managed alright."

I try to imagine her childhood, but it's difficult. I was tutored at home, too, but my parents hired a private teacher. I don't think either of them would have been competent enough to teach me themselves, or at least they wouldn't have had the patience. I try to imagine her playing with the Muggles in her neighborhood, but it's hard to do when I don't have any personal memories to base it on. My family's home is secluded and far away from any neighbors. Even if we _were _to have neighbors, I'm very sure I wouldn't have been allowed out to play with them, especially Muggles.

Rose's fingers curl around mine on the palm that rests against hers. "You shouldn't worry," she says honestly, "about your dad, I mean. All that stuff happened a million years ago."

She's right, of course. But still, it's easy for her to say. Her parents were never Death Eaters.

"I _did _see that your grandfather donated a pretty hefty sum to Edmund Vandiver, though…" Her eyes are playful, and her tone is far from serious, despite the fact that she's telling the truth. Edmund Vandiver is her mother's main competition in the Minister of Magic election. He's about three-hundred years old and has a face that looks quite a bit like a bulldog. He promotes pro-Pureblood laws and makes no secret of it.

And my grandfather did, in fact, make a very generous donation to his campaign.

"I have a feeling," Rose goes on loftily, "that he doesn't want my mum to win."

I snort and shake my head. "Now _there's _an understatement…"

Rose laughs, and I appreciate the fact that she isn't holding that particular fact against me. It's nice to know that she isn't bothered by the fact that my grandfather is a complete arsehole who hates her family.

"You should tell me a secret now," I tell her, and my fingers dance on the bone of her ankle where her jeans have risen just a tiny bit.

She purses her lips and thinks for a minute.

"I gave you a deep, dark confession, now it's your turn," I prod.

Rose sighs, and then she leans forward just a little bit. "Okay, fine. A few years ago, I got kidnapped. Did you know that?"

I roll my eyes. "Rose, _everyone _knows that."

She frowns and then tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Well, anyway. The whole time I was gone, this lady took care of me. And she was nicer to me than anyone had ever been, and she really cared about me…" Her voice trails off, and for a second, I'm pretty sure she's going to stop mid-confession. I'm not surprised, seeing as how I've never once ever heard her even _mention _the kidnapping. Apparently, it's a very hush/hush subject in her family as well. To my surprise, though, she keeps going. "I think she loved me more than my parents do…"

Now, _this, _I'm shocked at. She is looking down at the table, and her hair has fallen around her shoulders, giving her a shield of sorts.

"She _kidnapped _you," I point out the obvious.

Rose mumbles something that I don't hear, but I do hear the slightly angry tone to her voice. A second later, she speaks more clearly. "She only did that to help me."

I remember reading the stories in the newspaper following the trials of her kidnappers. She testified in their defense, despite the fact that she'd been put on the stands to do the opposite. Brainwashed, that's what people said afterwards. She'd been brainwashed by her captors and poor little girl… she must be in shock. I had wondered at it then, wondering how much of what was reported was true and how much was false… But now I'm sitting here listening to her say it's true with her own mouth. Not only is she admitting to what was printed, she said _do, _as in present tense. She _still _believes it.

"She's in prison now, isn't she?" I ask, referring to the lady she talked about.

Rose just nods and keeps her eyes trained on the table. "She went to school with my parents. With your dad, too, I guess," she adds as an after-thought. "She was in Slytherin."

Of course she was. Who else would go out kidnapping little girls besides ex-Slytherins? It's no wonder we've got such a horrible reputation. If she was in Slytherin, though, my dad must have known her fairly well, especially if they were in the same year. I think fleetingly that maybe I'll ask him about it, but, of course, I know I won't. Not only would that involve an actual conversation with him, but it would certainly raise some very interesting questions that I'm not sure I want to answer.

"Do you still believe that?" I ask cautiously. "That she loves you more than your parents?"

"I don't know." Her voice is quiet but determined. "Everything she said to me made sense…"

I don't know what she's talking about, and I don't know whether to push it. I try to take the safest route. "Did you ever talk to anyone about it?"

Rose looks up then, and she gives me an almost amused sort of look. "Are you kidding? I've been in therapy for three years! I go every single week."

I've never heard that. I can't imagine when she'd have _time _to go to the therapy, but I don't have every class with her. I suppose there're plenty of opportunities for her to go.

"Does that bother you?" she asks, her voice mimicking my own cautiousness. "That I'm crazy?"

"I don't think you're crazy," I reply softly. And it's the truth. She might be a bit scary at times, but I wouldn't call it crazy.

Rose smiles at me, gently and lightly. She almost looks a bit shy, and she tucks a loose curl behind her ear. She's so pretty, it's almost ridiculous.

"Well, now you know my deep, dark secret," she says, and it sounds like she very nearly laughs. "So if you aren't scared away by that, then I suppose we must be doing alright."

I try not to look too pleased with the way she says _we. _She's referring to herself and me as a single unit. When she takes her feet away and places them back on the floor, I'm upset. But then she uses them as leverage to lean across the table and kiss me quickly.

And then I don't feel upset at all.

--

A/N: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this one as well! And now I really want a donut (just thought I'd share)!


	36. Al, Explosions

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 36

**AL, EXPLOSIONS**

--

Easter holidays.

They're good for two reasons- one, it means school is almost over, and two, it means I get a break from seeing all the people at school that I don't want to see (mainly Meghan and all of her friends).

Of course, those two reasons pale in comparison to the many, many reasons why it's horrible.

The main reason, of course, is that it means I have to go home and face my parents. I know they've been dreading us coming home because it means they won't be able to avoid our questions anymore. They're going to be forced into giving us answers, and I'm sure they're not looking forward to that, considering the fact that they have yet to so much as even give us a hint. Not to mention, of course, that I'll be forced to spend the next week in close proximity with James, which is never a good thing- especially now that we're mortal enemies.

At least things are better with Rose. We're pretty much back to normal, and I'm glad for that. I didn't like fighting with her, and I'm happy that it was so easy to get over it. Truthfully, we probably let it go on longer than it should have, but we've never had one major argument in fifteen years, so I suppose it was time. But it's over now, and now things are fine. And I like that.

We get our own compartment on the train, and she spends the whole time talking about Scorpius Malfoy. She wants him to sit with us, but I tell her that's not a good idea because too many people would notice and someone might guess something a bit more accurately than she prefers. So she doesn't push the issue, and we spend the entire ride to London _talking_ about him instead. Or rather, _she _talks about him, and I try very hard not to roll my eyes.

When we finally arrive at the station, she runs out quickly to catch him before he disappears. I suppose she wants a quick goodbye, and I don't even bother trying to talk her out of it. Instead, I pull both of our bags down from the overhead compartment and sling them over my shoulder. Hers is much heavier than my own; apparently she felt the need to pack half of her belongings for a single week trip home, whereas I packed next to nothing.

I wait for her in the corridor and try to make myself as thin as possible to avoid people's muttered angry and annoyed comments as they shove by. Finally, I see Scorpius leave a compartment a ways up, and I start moving in that general direction. Rose exits a minute later, just when I make it to the door. I shove her bag at her, and she throws it over her shoulder with a loud huff. She thinks I should offer to carry it, but I won't. If she wants to pack entirely unnecessary items, then she's going to have to be the one to deal with their load.

It isn't hard to spot our parents when we step onto the platform, or rather, it isn't hard to spot _her _parents. Mine don't seem to be anywhere in sight. Rose's parents are chatting mindlessly with Aunt Fleur who has obviously come to collect Louis. They look up when we join them, and we immediately get passed amongst them for hugs.

"We're going to take you home," Aunt Hermione explains before I even have a chance to ask the question. "Well, we're going to the Burrow."

I don't know why my parents couldn't come collect us themselves, but I suspect it has something to do with the various photographers who seem to be hovering about. I'm quite sure they came here to stalk my parents, but they've apparently settled for stalking the Minister of Magic candidate instead.

Louis shows up next, and I can't help but feel embarrassed for the kid as his mum immediately grabs him up and smothers him in kisses. He tries to duck away from her (after all, the entire school is within viewing distance), but she doesn't seem to grasp the mortification potential. Hugo and Lily arrive shortly after, and Lily rolls her eyes when she sees that Mum and Dad aren't around.

"Where's James?" Aunt Hermione asks, and I know she's growing impatient trying to ignore the reporters and photographers who are huddled just feet from us. We wait… and wait… Was he even _on_ the train?

Finally, he appears through the crowd, though he's hardly paying attention to anything except Kate who is huddled under his arm and pressed tight against him. He whispers something in her ear, and she giggles. I wonder if anyone would mind if I puked on their shoes… They are completely oblivious to everyone and everything around them, and I wonder vaguely if her parents are within viewing distance. Surely they'd like to murder my brother if they're witnessing the disgusting public display of affection that I am. They stop a little ways away and just start snogging right there out in the middle of everything.

Yes, I'm seriously going to vomit.

"Oh, for the love of _god," _Rose says loudly. "Get an effin' room, or come on."

Her mother nudges her pointedly, probably for being so crass and loud right in front of the media. She doesn't scold her, though, probably because she agrees with her. James looks up and rolls his eyes swiftly, though he does break up the date. He whispers something else to Kate, and she nods. Then they kiss again (quickly this time at least), and he lets her go and joins us.

"It's about time," Rose says.

"Oh, shut up." James looks at the rest of us expectantly.

"We have to go to the Burrow," Lily answers him before he has a chance to ask it. "Apparently Mum and Dad can't come out in public anymore."

"Hush, Lily," Aunt Hermione says. Lily pouts but says nothing.

We follow the adults out to the parking area and say goodbye to Louis and Aunt Fleur. We find the car, and start loading all the bags into the boot. It's already been magically expanded, so everything fits fine. We all pile into the back together, too, much to Rose's dismay when she finds herself stuck between James and Hugo.

It takes _forever _to get to Ottery St. Catchpole, and James and Rose spend the entire time elbowing each other and bickering until her mum finally snaps at them to shut up. I don't know how or why they ended up next to each other, but it was definitely a bad idea. At one point, Rose actually grabs his fingers up in a tight grasp and threatens to snap them if he doesn't keep his hands to himself. I don't doubt that she'll actually do it, but James laughs at her reaction and dares her to. One more threat from Aunt Hermione, though, eventually shuts them up.

The Burrow isn't _too _crowded when we arrive. From what I can tell upon entering, the only people there (besides Grandmum and Granddad obviously) are my mum, Uncle George, Fred, and Roxie. Grandmum assaults us all full-force when we arrive through the door, of course, and we all do our best to escape her clutches as quickly as possible. James goes immediately to Fred, of course, and they disappear upstairs before anyone can so much as blink. Mum watches them go, but she doesn't try to stop them. She turns to the rest of us and smiles weakly.

She doesn't _look _any different. She doesn't look sick or put out or even sad really. She just sort of looks tired. Apparently the single life hasn't changed her too awful much. It's very clear from the second Lily sees her that she's holding a grudge. When Mum tries to hug her, Lily turns her face away and crosses her arms. A second later, she grabs Hugo's hand and drags him off somewhere. Mum looks at Aunt Hermione who shrugs one shoulder in some sort of secret conversation. I'm not as rude. When she hugs me, I let her. And when she asks me about school, I give her basic boring answers. I don't see the point in making her feel any worse than she apparently already does. It's awkward, though, and I take the first opportunity for escape that I can manage, following Rose outside to the gardens.

It's still way too cold to be spring, and we both huddle into our jackets as the wind whips at our faces. A light drizzle is falling, as is standard and everyday in an English spring. We're used to it, but it doesn't make it anymore appealing. Rose finds a spot under one of the apple trees and settles into the damp grass comfortably. I join her, and the branches from the trees block out most of the rain.

"I wonder where Dad is." I don't see the point in beating 'round the bush. I may as well ask the question that everyone else has been pondering.

Rose shakes her head and ducks her head against the wind. "I dunno. Maybe he'll come by later."

"I don't even know why _we _had to come by," I say bitterly, though the smell of Grandmum's roast and potatoes is reason enough alone.

Rose reads my mind and simply answers, "Dinner."

She's right, of course. We sit in silence for a little while until I finally say, "I don't know why James and Lily have to be so rude."

"Well, James is that way because _rude_ may as well be his middle name. Lily, I think, is probably just confused."

It isn't like Rose to take up for Lily, but she _has _been a bit nicer to her lately. Still, though, even if she's right, it doesn't give Lily an excuse. We're _all _confused. That doesn't mean we can all go around being little prats.

An hour or so later, we're called back inside for dinner. Victoire and Teddy apparently arrived sometime while we were outside because they're waiting at the dinner table with the rest of the family.

"Where's the baby?" Rose asks, sliding into an empty chair beside Teddy. She doesn't wait for anyone's permission before sliding a bowl of peas toward her and filling her plate.

"With Dominique," he answers, and it's obvious that he's happy about this. "Thank god…"

Everyone laughs, everyone except Victoire anyway- she gives him a little half-glare before turning her attention to her wine glass. Leave it to Vic to get distracted from reading someone the riot act by a simple glass of alcohol.

Dinner goes relatively smoothly and is pretty uneventful. Most of the conversation centers around taking the piss out of James about Kate. He _especially _gets it from Fred, my uncles, and Teddy, all of whom seem to find his sudden bitchdom very, very hilarious. I would probably find it hilarious, too, if I didn't have to _watch _it 24/7 and constantly have to fight my own gag reflex. He doesn't really seem to mind, though, and he takes all the ribbing in stride, much to my own surprise, as I half-expect him to murder anyone who brings it up. Apparently he's not even embarrassed by it, not even when Teddy asks him when the funeral is and then coughs and says he means wedding. Victoire, I'm sure, would have plenty of her own to say about _that, _but by that time, she's on her third glass of wine and isn't paying too much attention to anything at all.

After dinner, everyone breaks up into their own little groups. Dad is still nowhere to be seen, and nobody's brought it up, either. I wonder how long we're planning on staying here. Rose wonders the same thing, and she looks ridiculously tired, despite the fact that it's only about 7:30. We're out in the backyard again, still trying to counteract the rain by keeping our heads ducked, when an owl flies by and straight through the kitchen window. A newspaper is tied to its foot, so it's easy to tell that it's the evening edition of _The Daily Prophet. _I'm surprised my grandparents are still taking the paper, considering everything that's been written about our family lately. I suppose it's better to know what's being said about you, though… I guess.

It takes exactly forty-three seconds from the time the owl flies through the window to the explosion (okay, I'm lying, I absolutely didn't count, so I really have no idea- but it wasn't long!).

"_ROSE EMMELINE WEASLEY!"_

Rose and I look at each other immediately. Her eyes go wide at the sound of her full name being shouted from inside the house.

"What did I do?" she hisses, looking at me wildly.

"I don't know," I hiss back. "What _did _you do?"

"I don't think I did anything!"

"_ROSE!"_

"Shit." Her eyes are wide and frantic.

"_GET YOUR ARSE IN HERE RIGHT NOW!"_

"Go," I tell her quickly, standing up with her to show my support.

She looks halfway panicked as she heads back toward the house. I wonder what's happened to get her dad so riled up. I can tell by looking at her that she really _doesn't _have a clue as to what she's done. I can't imagine, either, but I don't blame her for being terrified.

When we get inside, it isn't difficult to tell what the cause of all the mayhem is. The evening edition of _The Daily Prophet _is lying open on the kitchen table for our full view. Rose and I both look at the headline together.

"_Daughter of Minister Hopeful Engaged in Secret Affair with Grandson of Opposing Party's Largest Donor."_

And there, for God and all the world to see, is a picture of Rose and Scorpius caught up in what appears to be one very intense kiss.

I don't bother reading the article. The picture says enough. I suppose it must have been taken earlier this afternoon on the train. It's very clearly aimed from outside the compartment through a window, but there's no mistaking the identity of the photo's subjects. It's right there in black and white.

Rose looks like she's about to faint. Her face drains of any and all color as she drops wordlessly into the chair opposite her parents. She doesn't look at anyone. Aunt Hermione looks as though words are failing her for probably the first time in her entire life, and Uncle Ron looks like he wants to strangle something, anything, and cause it a very painful and slow death. The kitchen has filled with all the other varying members of the family who happen to currently be at the Burrow. I suppose the ones who weren't already in the kitchen came running when they heard the explosion, and the ones who _were _already here are probably too terrified to move.

"Rose," Aunt Hermione finally finds words as she speaks stiffly and with a visible amount of control, "is this true?"

Rose says nothing. She still looks like she's about to pass out, despite the fact that she's sitting down. Either that, or she's definitely about to vomit all over the place…

"Answer the damn question!" her dad barks angrily when she doesn't immediately answer. "_Is this true?!"_

"Obviously there's a picture," Rose mutters darkly. She still doesn't look up.

"Don't you get smart with me, young lady!"

"Ron, calm down," Aunt Hermione quickly breaks in.

"_Calm down?!" _He laughs a very low, dangerous sort of laugh. "Do you fucking _see _this?!" He waves his hand wildly at the paper, which is still sitting untouched on the table.

"Of course I see it!" she snaps back. "In all the years you've known me, I don't believe I've ever once claimed to be blind, have I?"

"Well, I wonder!" he guffaws. "Seeing as how you tell me _calm down _when your daughter's whoring it up for all the world to see with a fucking _Malfoy!" _His face is bright red, and I'm halfway scared his head is actually going to explode. "How the hell did this even start?!" he demands, turning his attention away from his wife and directing it fully at his daughter once again.

Rose finally seems to snap out of her stupor, and her head drops forward onto the table unceremoniously. "Ohhhh, fuck me…" she says slowly and slightly pleadingly.

Aunt Hermione immediately says, _"Rose!" _at exactly the same moment that Uncle George mutters, "Well, that's _one _way to start it…" at Teddy who can't contain the half-snicker that escapes.

I'm sure I don't have to tell you that this is not the smartest thing in the world to say, as Aunt Hermione literally jumps up, spins around, and smacks them both (rather roughly) across the head. "What the hell is wrong with you??" she demands angrily.

"What about this is funny to you?" Uncle Ron snaps at them right after her.

"You gotta admit, mate," Uncle George says lightly, "this is irony at its finest..."

"It's not irony! I'll tell you what it fucking is-"

"May I be excused?" Rose sits up and asks suddenly.

Her dad says, "_No, _you are not excused!" at the same time her mum says, "Yes."

Her parents look at each other for a second, anger clearly written across both their faces. Rose doesn't wait around to see whose word will win trump. She just takes her mother's answer and runs from the room as quickly as her legs will carry her. It takes me another second to catch up.

"What do you mean she can be excused?" Uncle Ron bites out.

"I mean she can _go. _You are not going to embarrass her."

"Do I look like I give a toad shit about _embarrassing _her??" He grabs the paper off the table and thrusts it at her. "Do you _see _this?!"

Aunt Hermione grabs the paper and glares at him. "Yes," she hisses dangerously. "Believe it or not, I _do _know how to fucking _read!"_

When Aunt Hermione starts swearing, it's always a good time to leave the room. I take that as my cue to exit and slip out the backdoor in the same direction that Rose fled. She's got a bit of a head start, but I can see her disappearing over the hills toward the pond. The sun is down now, and the rain is back, heavier than it was this afternoon. I hurry after her.

When I finally catch up with her, she's sitting down on the bank of the pond. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, and she's got her face buried into them. She's shaking, and I know without even asking that she's crying. I _hate _when girls cry, even Rose, but I know if I walk away and leave her alone then that probably makes me a shitty cousin and an even shittier friend.

I sit down beside her, not sure of what to say. She doesn't look up, even though I know she knows I'm here. We sit like that, silently, for quite awhile, and then finally I manage a short sentence.

"Our lives are shit, huh?"

She shakes even more now, and I wonder how I possibly made her cry even harder. She won't look up, but I can hear her soft sobs. I don't exactly know why she's crying, though I'm sure it's got nothing to do with the fact that she's in trouble. In all the years I've ever known her, the only times she's cried while in trouble were attempts to get _out _of trouble. She's never run away and cried privately.

This scares me because it makes me think she's probably crying for other reasons that I don't feel comfortable asking about.

I don't know what else to say at all, really, so I just do the best I can. I sling an arm around her shoulder and keep her company, either until the tears stop falling or until the rain does.

Whichever comes first.

--

A/N: So that was a short wait, huh? I hope you guys enjoyed this- you can all be happy that now we're to Easter, which means Harry and Ginny are going to _have _to come clean with the kids… not to mention all the _shit, meet fan _that's bound to come from _this _little news article.

Thanks for reading, please review!!


	37. Rose and the Demon Spawn

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 37

**ROSE AND THE DEMON SPAWN**

--

I've never been in so much trouble in my entire life.

The worst part of it all, though, is the fact that I'm not even actually _in _trouble! I'm not grounded or being punished in any way whatsoever, but I can't help wishing that I _was. _At least then I'd have something to do- something to focus all my energy and anger towards. At least then, it'd be _over _with.

But no, it's not even _close _to over.

Would you like to know how the past day and a half have been for me? Well, here, I'll give you some random sentences that have been directed at me and let you guess how each one made me feel.

"Oh, Rosie, I don't know what's gotten into you." – Grandmum.

"It'll blow over… maybe." – Al.

"Oh, my god, tell me _everything!" _– Lily.

"What the fuck? Don't you even know that little prat is probably just using you to try and get secrets out of Gryffindor for Quidditch?!" – James.

"Look, just stay out of your dad's way for a couple of days and let him cool down." – Aunt Ginny.

And… drum roll, please…

"How could you be so fucking stupid?!"

"What in the _hell _possessed you to start having it off with the demon spawn?!"

"Do you think this is _funny?! _Do I look like I'm fucking _laughing?!"_

"Fuck!"

"Shit!"

"Goddamn!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_!"

"Oh, you better believe this conversation isn't over, young lady!"

Dad.

So… needless to say, my father wasn't particularly pleased with the newspaper's portrayal of my "secret affair" with Scorpius Malfoy. He hasn't stopped yelling for more than five seconds since he found out, and if he's not shouting at me, he's shouting at Mum. They are having it out over this way worse than I'm having it out with anyone. I guess I should be grateful because it's keeping less of the heat on me, though, of course, I'm still being thoroughly burned. Dad isn't pissed off at Mum, he's pissed off at _me. _

He just fights better with her.

Mum is actually doing a halfway decent job of keeping her cool about everything. She hasn't yelled at me, though she obviously isn't turning backflips, either. She doesn't seem to think that I did this to sabotage her campaign or anything like that. So that's all good at least…

It's too bad, she decided to have THE TALK with me then.

Yes, THE TALK.

THE sex TALK.

Now… Let me just say that I would have _much _preferred Dad's shouting and swearing to Mum asking me if I was being "careful." I don't know why adults always think that's the most important question to ask when approaching the topic of sex because obviously the vast majority of teenagers who are having sex are being careful. There are far, far more kids having sex than there are kids getting pregnant. It's sort of the one thing in the world that we _are _careful about…. I use the term "we" loosely, as I myself am not having sex, nor have I ever had sex.

But I didn't tell my mother that.

As nice as I _think _she was trying to be, I can't help but see the humor in torturing her just a bit. I could have said, "Look, Mum, I'm a virgin," or, "Worry not, my virtue is well protected," or, "He won't even put his hand up my shirt, I highly doubt he's going to try shagging me anytime soon!" But I didn't. Where would the fun be in that? So, no, I just sat there and let her try to have a serious discussion about sex with me. She was _way _more embarrassed than I was, and that's saying a lot because I was pretty damn mortified myself.

But at least it was amusing.

I've been in my room now for about fourteen straight hours. I don't particularly want to leave because I know the second I step foot outside my door, either Dad's going to lay into me, or Mum's going to want to "talk." I don't really fancy either of those options, so I've just been holed up in my room catching up on some studying. It's a good excuse really. I have been neglecting my studies, so this at least gives me a chance to put some actual work into them. Not to mention, of course, it keeps me busy and keeps me from freaking out even more than I already am.

Yes, I'll admit that I've spent a good portion of the minutes since I first saw that god-forsaken paper in tears. Why am I crying? Well, it's not because I'm in trouble, if that's what you think. Am I embarrassed? Hell yes, I'm embarrassed. Not so much by the fact that it's Scorpius, but _anyone _would be embarrassed if there was a picture on the front page of the newspaper of them kissing their boyfriend (is that what he is?). Not to mention, of course, the fact that the article that followed it pretty much made us out to be some sort of tragic Wizarding World Romeo and Juliet. Seriously, it really did. It was actually very nice to _us, _which made it rather nasty in regards to our parents and all the other evil people in the world dead set on keeping us apart. And it spun the whole election thing as the main issue, not the fact that our parents have hated each other since they were, oh, I don't know, eleven years old. But I guess whatever makes for good stories…

It certainly made my entire family crazy, so if that was the intention, it was well successful.

Of course, I can't even imagine what reaction Scorpius got…

I don't want to think about it, either, because it'll make me worry, and I don't want to worry. I don't want to do anything except sit here and study for my OWLs and pretend like this whole thing didn't happen. I haven't heard from Scorpius, and I'm sure as hell not going to send him a letter and risk the chance of it getting intercepted. That's just _not _going to happen.

So I just won't think about it.

Oh, and here's Mum again. Brilliant.

"Rose?" she knocks on the door lightly.

"Yeah?" I figure it's better _not _to ignore her, as she's the only one on my side.

She cracks the door and peeks her head in before coming all the way into my room and sitting down on my bed. "What're you studying?"

I hold up my copy of _Standard Book of Spells, Year Five _in response.

"I hope you aren't overdoing it with the studying," she says honestly. "Don't wear yourself out on it. It's important, of course, but you need to make sure you're doing other things as well."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but I don't do the best job controlling my verbal response. "Don't worry, I've clearly got plenty of distractions."

_Why _wasn't I born a mute? God, my life would be _so _much easier.

Mum doesn't take the bait. She clearly isn't going to have an argument with me over Scorpius Malfoy no matter how much I goad. She is a lot calmer than Dad about it, which is funny because she's usually the one to fly clear off the broomstick handle whenever I do something wrong. Dad's generally the laid back one who looks the other way. Apparently this is the greatest sin I could have ever committed, though, at least in his eyes, because he's gone straight up mental on me.

While Mum doesn't immediately launch into a stern lecture about all the reasons I shouldn't date a Malfoy, she does broach the subject in a calmer manner. "I do want to talk to you about that," she says carefully.

Immediately, my mind feels with memories of the sex talk she tried to give me yesterday. I'm not sure I can handle it again. "Mum, _please, _we already tal-"

"Do you really care about him?" she asks seriously, cutting me off.

I feel my cheeks heat up. Stupid, stupid, _stupid _Weasley genes. Mum isn't mad, she's just asking an honest question and clearly hoping for an honest answer. It's embarrassing, though. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt, though, and answer seriously. "Yes," I say flatly. "I do."

"And he's nice to you, right?"

I try to imagine a situation in the world where Scorpius _isn't _nice, and I find it very difficult. "Mum, he's the nicest person I've ever met in my entire life…" I feel like I'm saying that a lot lately, but it's the only way I know how to explain it. It's the truth.

Mum studies me for a minute, her face slightly conflicted, as though she finds that difficult to believe. Finally, though, she nods. "Well, that's what matters."

"But you don't like it." It isn't a question, it's a statement.

She sighs and glances away. "It's not that I don't like it," she says slowly. "I want you to be with someone who you like and who's nice to you… It's just… It's hard for me to imagine him being that nice."

"Why is it so hard? Just because his name's Malfoy?"

"Well… yes." She looks back at me.

"Don't you think that's a bit discriminatory?" I ask, sitting up straighter in my desk chair and fixing her a very pointed look. "Isn't that a double-standard?"

She knows what I'm talking about. She's spent her entire career fighting against the very thing we're currently discussing. It's making her very conflicted, and I can tell. "It's just…" she struggles to find the right term, "difficult. I just can't imagine how someone raised in that family could turn out differently."

"It's been a million years, don't you think it's time to get over old school grudges?"

But Mum doesn't immediately say yes and nod and agree with me the way she would if she were trying to set a good example. Instead, she looks down at the floor and studies the stitching in the carpet for awhile.

"Do you _really _hate his dad that much?"

She swallows and then looks back up. A second to compose herself, and then, "His father was very, very cruel to me when I was a child."

"What happened to forgive and forget?" It's what she always tries to pound into Hugo's and my heads.

"I have forgiven him," she says slowly. "He was just a child himself, and he wasn't saying or doing anything that hadn't been put into his head by his own father."

"Then what's the problem?"

"The problem _is_ his father!" Her voice rises just slightly, but then she catches it and controls it again. "Scorpius's grandfather. Lucius Malfoy." She looks away again, and then back. "He's evil, Rose. Pure evil."

Mum isn't the type to go around saying things like that, not unless she really means it. So that worries me just a bit, not that I plan on letting on about that at all.

"Well, Scorpius isn't anything like that," I say defiantly.

Mum nods. "I believe that, I trust your judgment. But trust me, it isn't going to be easy."

"You always say anything worth having isn't easily obtained."

She frowns, clearly annoyed that I'm so good at using her own words against her. "Lucius isn't going to make this easy for him, Rose. I just want you to be prepared in case… in case things don't turn out the way you want them…"

She thinks Scorpius is going to dump me.

She thinks that his family is going to be so hard on him that he'll have no other options but to call it off with me- whatever _it _is. She thinks that the Malfoys will be so disgusted by the idea of Scorpius liking me that they'll threaten him and force him to be done with it.

And she's probably right.

"It's not fair," I mutter, more to myself than to Mum, but she hears me. She looks at me almost sadly.

"Did you know his dad is the one who eventually told us where to find you when you were missing?" she asks quietly, and she gives me a sympathetic smile. This is supposed to make me feel better, I can tell that. It doesn't.

"And yet Dad still hates him…"

Mum rolls her eyes as she pushes herself up off the bed. "Your father is too stubborn for his own good, and he's being ridiculous. But he's an idiot, so what else can you expect?" She offers me another smile, and I try to give her a half one in return. "Just be careful," she says, running a hand absently over my hair. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

She leaves then, shutting my bedroom door behind her. When she's gone, I drop my head into my hands and think about everything she said. She's probably very right about all of it. No matter how nice Scorpius is, he's not going to be able to fight his whole family. He isn't as defiant as I am, not by any means, and I'm already sick of arguing about it with _my _family.

A noise at my window sends my head shooting up as I look over wildly. I don't do a great job of strangling the half-scream when I see a face staring at me. What the _hell? _Fate hates me. The bitch must fucking _loathe _me.

There, outside of my second-story window, is Scorpius moving his head about wildly in what is obviously supposed to be a signal for me to let him in.

_Christ._

I jump up from my desk and hurry over to the window before someone sees him. I let him in (or rather I pull him in), and he falls through the open window and knocks into me rather roughly. He pulls his broom in with him (no, he wasn't floating in mid-air), and looks at me with very serious gray eyes.

"What the _hell _are you doing?!" I demand, hissing at him in a whispered yell.

He's out of breath, and he pushes damp hair off his forehead. "I'm going to be killed," he says, and there isn't even an ounce of joking to his voice.

I just look at him.

"You don't understand," he says seriously. "They're going to _kill _me."

"_I'm _going to be killed if anybody sees you!" I nearly shout back. "_You're _going to be killed! My dad will murder us both!" I try to imagine the scene in which Dad shows up and finds Scorpius in my bedroom.

It's certainly not pretty…

"You don't know how much trouble I'm in! Seriously, you can't be here."

And then I hear footsteps heading down the hallway.

"Shit!" I look around frantically. "Someone's coming, hide!" He opens his mouth to protest, but I just shove him backwards into my closet and slam the door closed just as someone knocks on my door. _"What?"_

Mum opens the door again and looks at me curiously. "Who were you talking to?"

"No one," I snap. "I was talking to myself. Am I not allowed to talk to myself in my own room now?"

"Rose," she says warningly, "you need to watch it."

I open my mouth to say something else, but then I shut it and cross my arms over my chest. "Did you need something?"

"Yes. I've got to go to the Ministry. Dad and Hugo are out, and Landon's taking a nap. Can you listen for him in case he wakes up?"

I shrug as disinterestedly as possible. "Sure."

She nods and looks around the room suspiciously, as if she half-suspects I'm hiding a boy in my closet. Eventually, she shoots me a quick smile and disappears. The second I'm sure she's gone, I hurry back over to the closet and yank it open. Scorpius is standing against the wall, one of my shirts has fallen off the hanger and is draped over his shoulder. I pull him out, and he hands me the shirt silently. I throw it back into the closet.

"Now. What the hell are you doing here?" I ask again, crossing my arms and looking at him expectantly.

"I ran away," he says flatly, as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You flew all the way here on your _broom?" _He nods. "How do you even know where my house is?"

"I just flew back to London, and then I tracked your address."

It sounds so simple, like he's talking about taking a stroll 'round his neighborhood, not flying clear across the bloody _country! _

"What did your dad say?" I don't have to clarify what I'm referring to, he knows perfectly well.

"He didn't say much of anything actually," he says slowly. "He just sort of sat there… and then he started shaking a little bit… Then he wadded up the newspaper and left the room."

"Well, that's not so bad, is it?" I ask cautiously. It sounds far less explosive than my own father's reaction.

He raises his eyebrows and fixes me with a look that lets me know he thinks I'm half-stupid. "Then my grandfather showed up."

My mother's words come flying back at me full-force, and I try not to show my immediate emotion. "And what did he do?"

"I didn't give him a chance to _do_ anything," Scorpius shakes his head. "I left the second I heard him arrive. Rose, you don't understand, he's going to have me killed."

I would accuse him of being over-dramatic, but half of me thinks he's probably being serious. Of course, his grandfather wouldn't actually _kill _him (at least I sincerely hope not), but he would apparently be _extremely _upset and make his life a living hell.

And Scorpius doesn't want to deal with that.

"So did you come here to break up with me?" I ask, my arms still crossed, though now my head turns away and I pretend to be very interested in something across the room. I don't want to see his face when he does it.

But he doesn't do it. Instead, he talks to me like I'm crazy. "_What?! _Why would you think that?"

"Because then your grandfather won't have any reason to be mad."

"He'd be furious either way now!" Scorpius moves so that he's back into my direct line of sight. "Are you going to break up with _me?"_

I just stare at him. It's the first time either of us have talked about it in a way that puts any sort of label to it. By referring to _breaking up, _it's almost like admitting that we're _dating. _Though how can we possibly be dating when our entire "relationship" consists of hurried snogs in the library study room? I _wish_ it was more than that…

I realize that I'm not answering his question, and the look on his face lets me know that he's reading the wrong thing into it. "No," I tell him quickly. "I just thought… maybe they'd make you…"

"Rose," he sighs and looks down at the floor for a second. When he looks back up, the serious face is back. "Rose, I don't care what they think. Or what anyone thinks."

"You don't?"

"No. I-" He cuts himself off, and I can see the wavering nervousness in his face. "I don't care if they don't like it. I like _you." _His voice is quiet, and I can tell he's scared to death. It's cute in a way.

Still, though, his words stop me for a second. I look at him, trying to read his eyes, but it's hard because they're so guarded and nervous. He swallows, probably out of nervous habit, and waits for me to say something.

"That's more important to you?" I ask, my own voice just as quiet as his.

"I came here, didn't I?" He's got a point there. He flew across the country on a freaking _broomstick. _"Rose, I _really _like you. _Really." _He almost sounds desperate. And his eyes are so pleading. And he's so _sincere._

And I'm done.

There have been so many times that we've kissed, but it's never been like _this. _I know from the second that I grab his face and yank him forward that it's a lost cause. It's over. I don't even have conscious control over it anymore. He doesn't seem to mind at all, either, which is just slightly surprising, considering the fact that he's usually very careful about how far things go.

But he definitely doesn't seem to care about the rules now.

He's got his fingers twisted into my hair, and I suppose in some other situation, it might hurt. But I barely notice it now. It's almost _too _easy. The house is empty (save my sleeping baby brother), and he's here in my bedroom. _In my bedroom. _And there is my bed right there. I don't have to work hard to get him to back up just enough to "trip" over the foot of the bed and fall backwards, and I'm more than a little happy when he doesn't even remotely protest me following him.

We've never done this before- kissed like this, lying down on a bed no less. It's ridiculously exhilarating, and my pulse speeds up just thinking about it. It's a bit difficult to pull his jacket off in our current position, but we manage, and when my hair falls down on either side of his face as we continue kissing, I can't help but get very excited. My mind isn't exactly coherent, but that's okay. I don't particularly care at all that I've lost the ability to make rational decisions.

He pulls me down closer, but I can't help feeling that no matter how close we are, it's not close enough. Something ridiculous and hormonal has been set off inside of me, and I've got absolutely no idea how to calm it or control it. Nor do I particularly want to. Scorpius seems to be suffering from the same issue because as careful as he normally is, he doesn't seem to be registering anything except the empty house and the bed, either.

He's a rather fantastic kisser now. Thanks to me, of course. And I _swear _he gets cuter every single day. I almost gasp when his fingers slide up the back of my shirt, but thankfully I don't because that would pretty much be _beyond _embarrassing. He tugs at the edge and knots the fabric just a bit as I keep both of my hands on his chin and focus on our mouths. I don't know what's gotten into me, and I'm quite sure that a normal person would be a _bit _more concerned about the fact that their parents could arrive home at any moment. Especially if that person was already in seven different shades of shit. But I guess no one's ever accused me of being normal.

When one of his hands clutches desperately at my bare waist, I can no longer take it. Forcing myself to break up the kissing for just a second, I sit up and look down at him. He stared back at me with a bewildered sort of look, his hand still resting awkwardly on my waist. I take a deep breath and then reach down to quickly grab the bottom of my shirt and slip it over my head. I don't think while I'm doing it because I'm pretty sure I'd freak out change my mind. Too late now. I'm half-naked, and Scorpius is staring at me in a way that definitely lets me know this is the first time he's ever seen a bra. At least in person.

I won't lie. It's embarrassing to be this exposed, and I duck my head to kiss him again so that I don't have to look him in the face. I know it's silly, but I've never done this before, and it's a lot easier if I don't have to make eye-contact. He doesn't know what to do with his hands now, and they sort of tap aimlessly around my waist and back.

"They're tits, Malfoy," I mutter, breaking the kiss for just a second but avoiding any and all direct eye-contact. "You can touch them."

He does. Awkwardly.

The whole thing is awkward, and I know that he has to be at least as nervous as I am. It's obvious from the way his fingertips just barely brush up against me before going immediately to a much safer spot on my neck. Apparently even the bare skin of my neck and back is too much. It's okay, though. I don't know what to do, either.

The sound of someone Apparating downstairs immediately snaps both of us out of hormonal unconsciousness, though, and we pull apart as though someone literally shoves us away from each other. I stand up at exactly the same second he rolls away. I can feel my face heating up, which leads me to the humiliating revelation that the stupid blush is probably covering my whole body. This isn't normally an issue, but seeing as how I'm standing there half-naked, it suddenly is.

I grab my shirt and pull it over my head quickly, just as Scorpius grabs around for his jacket. The knocking on my door startles me, despite the fact that I knew it was coming. Scorpius doesn't wait for me to shove him into the closet this time, he goes willingly, pulling the door closed with him.

It's Mum again, and she looks at me very oddly. "What happened to your hair?" she asks, and I reach up unconsciously to feel several knots and tangles, far more than usual. Fantastic.

"I was taking a nap," I lie quickly. She probably won't buy it, considering it hasn't been _that _long since she left. She doesn't say anything, though, she just sort of gives me a glance over.

"Well, I just came back to check and see if Landon was up yet. I forgot to tell you that he needs to eat something when he wakes up, just a snack to hold him over until dinner."

I nod distractedly, trying to get her to just leave me alone. "Yeah, okay."

"I'll be back in a little while. Your dad should be home soon."

"Yeah, fine."

Mum stares at me oddly. She knows something's up, but she doesn't know what. And if she even guesses, she won't let herself believe it. "Okay, well, I'll see you later then…"

When she's gone again, the closet door slowly squeaks open. Scorpius steps out awkwardly, his own hair is a horrid mess as well. I can't imagine what mine must look like.

"So," he says timidly, "I should probably go."

I nod, hating myself for wanting him to stay so badly. "Yeah, before my dad gets home."

He nods, too. "Yeah." A beat passes, and we stare at each other, both aware of what probably would have happened had Mum not shown up. It makes the air in my room feel very thick. "I'm glad we… talked."

Talked. Right. "Me, too," I reply lamely. "You should take the Floo back. You know, so you don't have to fly all that way."

He nods again. "Okay."

Another awkward silence. It's annoying. I pick up his broom and lead the way out. "I'll walk you down."

He follows me, and we head downstairs in complete silence. When we get to the sitting room, I hand over his broomstick, and we look at each other strangely.

"So, I'll see you?" It's a question. He looks at me with raised eyebrows and something close to hope.

"If you need to, you can come back," I tell him honestly. I don't know how serious he was about being killed, but I can't bear the thought of someone hurting him. In any way.

"I'll write you," he promises. "And let you know what happens."

"Less than a week," I tell him, signifying the time until we're back in school.

"Less than a week," he agrees.

And then he kisses me again. It's nowhere near the kisses upstairs, but it's something else entirely. Sweet and gentle and very, very sincere.

A second later, he steps into the fire and disappears. I stand there and watch the flames go back to a normal color and then dissolve. I'm dizzy and confused. I don't know what to think, and I certainly don't know what's going to happen next.

But I do know that he really likes me. _Really._

--

A/N: Ahhh, okay. First of all, this was supposed to be Lily's chapter. The chapter I originally started _was _Lily. But Lily is extremely difficult for me to write (which is why she's only had one chapter so far). It's very hard for me to get into her head, and what I was writing was going so _slowly _that it was driving me insane. _This _was supposed to be the next chapter. But it turns out, that I get into Rose's head _much _more easily. So… Lily will be coming next (I hope).

Secondly, this chapter got away from me as I was writing it. Originally, there was no interruption, and things went much further. All the way to the land of no return. While I was writing, though, I realized that it didn't feel right for all of that to happen right now. I don't know, I guess I just like them innocent and awkward. Hence the interruption. So I don't know, maybe you guys would have liked it better the other way- if so, I'm sorry, really. Because trust me, I was with you to begin with. If you like it the way it is now, then I'm happy. We'll see where they go from him.

Thanks for the last reviews, I love you for it, muah muah muah!


	38. Lily's Lament

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 38

**LILY'S LAMENT**

--

Alone.

That's me. I'm alone in my own house with my own family. No one's talking to me, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since no one is talking to _anyone. _The whole family's wrapped up in solitude. The difference between them and me, though, is that they actually _prefer _it that way. And I hate it. I hate not having anyone to talk to, and I hate being alone.

Mum stays in her room a lot. Occasionally she goes to work for a couple of hours, and then she comes home and makes dinner that nobody eats. She tries to smile and be normal, but she fails miserably at it. So then she just goes to bed. James stays holed up in his room being pissed off at the world and writing Kate mushy love letters (for the record, I have no confirmation that he has ever written any such love letters, but it makes for a better story- and at this point, I totally wouldn't doubt it). Al's in his room all the time, too. Doing what, I've no idea. I'm willing to bet, though, that he isn't studying for his OWLs. And Dad, of course, is not here.

He came over the first day we were home, and we finally all sat down and talked about it. And by it, I mean "the separation." They won't call it a divorce because, according to them, they don't know what it is yet. (I'm rolling my eyes even though I know you can't see).

You'd think after all that time, we'd get some sort of epic answer, right? Wrong. We got some cop out story about how things are changing and how they both need to take some time to figure themselves out. They need a break to "find themselves" and try to make things work. I call bullshit. Bull fucking shit. Who the hell takes a _break _to make things work? Call me stupid, but _how _exactly can that be considered helpful? How the hell are you supposed to _fix _a problem with someone when you're _separated _from them? It doesn't make sense.

And I don't buy any of it. It's stupid, and it's just plain selfish. How can you suddenly be this brand new person who doesn't even know if you're still in love with the person you've been married to for almost twenty years? I think it's ridiculous. They're breaking up our whole family because they don't bloody _know _themselves anymore?? And that's all it was. There was no affair, no love child, no nothing. I know that Aunt Hermione already said there was none of that, but I still half-expected her to be wrong. I sort of wish she were… At least then there'd be an excuse. There'd be a _real _reason for all this bullshit. Not some sodding _mid-life _crisis shit.

I need to stop swearing so much. If I don't stop now, I'm going to turn into my brothers, and then Mum will try to wash my mouth out with dish soap or something. But she really won't. She's all but given up on us, I believe. She just accepts that she has no more control- that's partly the reason that James is the way he is. No one even tries anymore. Mum and Dad both gave up on him a long time ago, and now he just does his best to live up to their (un)expectations. He's really not nearly as horrible as he'd like you to believe, but I wouldn't dare tell him that. He likes to carry on pretending that he really _is _that bad. The truth is, though, James has always been rather nice to me (_most _of the time- he certainly has plenty of moments when he's a complete prat). But in general, he's always been decent to me, and he takes up for me whenever I get in trouble. And if anyone ever picked on me, I know he'd be right there to kick their arse. And Kate has changed him, too. He's completely whipped now, and he doesn't even _care. _I like her, though, so I'm glad it's her and not one of the brainless twits that he normally has it off with. Kate is smart and funny and could definitely beat the snot out of him if she wanted to. And I like that.

When we were having our "family meeting," James sat in his chair looking mostly bored, except for an eye roll here and a muttered swear there. Mum and Dad both ignored him, which I'm sure drove him insane, even though he acted as though he couldn't care less. But they seemed determined to get through it all. When Dad first got there, they went into the kitchen to talk by themselves for a few minutes, and when they came out, they both looked very serious. It was like they were determined to get through everything once and for all and do it with a united front. It was exactly the way they used to look when we were in trouble- back before they started picking sides and joining in our fights. I half-expected to get grounded, but, of course, I didn't.

We "talked" for about forty-five minutes. And by talked, of course, I mean _they _talked, and we all sat there silently. James looked like he was about to fall asleep. Al looked like he would rather be eating nails than sitting there listening to them. And I didn't know what else to do, so I just listened and tried to make some sort of sense of it. But it was useless.

Dad had to leave then because Aunt Hermione called and said it was an emergency. Apparently there was about to be a murder committed at her house, and she needed Dad to come calm Uncle Ron down before Rose ended up dead and buried in the back garden (under the roses, no doubt). Dad told her that she should probably just look the other way because Rose probably _needed _her arse kicked- and I think he was only half-kidding…

_That's _another story all itself.

Rose is probably miserable, I'm sure. I can't imagine her house is too peaceful right now, considering the fact that the hour following the arrival of the newspaper the other night was probably the most _explosive _hour of anything I've ever watched in my entire life. I seriously thought Rose was going to die that night. I've _never _seen her dad so mad over anything in my entire life. I really honestly thought he was going to murder her. Al's talked to her a couple of times since then, and apparently things aren't getting any better. A couple of months ago that probably would have made me happy, but now it's not so amusing. Rose is nice to me now- well, as _nice _as it's possible for her to be (which is still somewhat bitchy, but whatever). She's really been there for me these past few weeks, and she's smart enough that her opinion on things actually sounds rather legitimate.

I can't say I get the whole Scorpius Malfoy thing, though.

Yes, he _is _cute. Very cute, in fact. He's got these really sharp features that make his face super-defined, and he's got perfect skin (though admittedly a bit pale) and perfect teeth. His hair is that silky white blonde that you don't normally see in nature- at least not on anyone over the age of three. He's the kind of cute that's more beautiful, really. He almost doesn't look real, sort of like a porcelain doll that might break if you touch it wrong. And he's also got that sort of mysterious thing going on, considering the fact that no one knows anything about him because he pretty much never _speaks. _There's also the fact that his family has more money than _God… _But still, even with all of his positive aesthetic and monetary attributes, that doesn't mean I _get _it.

He's weird. First and foremost. He's just plain _weird. _He doesn't talk to anyone, and he has _no _friends… Now I know Rose's social stock sort of plummeted this year, what with her hooking up with her best mate's ex and all, but still. She used to at least _care _what people thought of her. Now it's as if she doesn't give a shit at all! It's like she thinks just because she's at the bottom of the social scale right now that she can never climb back up, but she definitely could. Her mother is going to be _Minster of Magic, _for crying out loud! That in itself is going to instantly turn her back into one of the most popular girls at school, if for no other reason than the fact that people love being friends with people they think have power. Trust me, I know. Half of my friends only like me because my last name is Potter, and I'm okay with that. I have a few _real _friends and two _best _friends (one of whom is also my cousin, thank god), and that's all I really need. The other superficial friendships that I have benefit me as much as they benefit them. And that's fine. I like being popular, and that's part of the reason why I can't fathom Rose not caring about people's opinions of her.

I won't even get started on the fact that he's a Malfoy… Okay, I'm lying. Of _course _I'm going to get started on it. Is she freaking _mental?! _Okay, yes, fair enough, she _has _been to known to have the odd mental problem here and there, but this? This is taking it too far. This is Scorpius freaking _Malfoy. _Now, I don't know how well-versed you are on Weasley law, but there are very few rules. One rule that _does _exist, however- _Malfoys are evil. _Now, yes, I realize that perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic, and no, they don't actually _tell _us that. But we know. Oh, we know. It's one of those unwritten rules- something that goes unsaid but damn sure better be obeyed.

Rose must have a serious death wish, not to mention the fact that she must _seriously _hate her parents. I mean, she had to know that there was probably nothing else in the world she could that would piss her father off more. And, of course, it's awfully convenient that she did this right after Lucius Malfoy went public about making a huge donation to her mum's main competition. Way to sabotage the campaign, Rose! I'm sure that was part of her secret agenda, not that'll have much effect anyway, though. If Aunt Hermione doesn't win, then I'm sure I certainly won't be the only shocked person. She's a shoo in, so Rose's attempts at scandal are pretty pointless.

There're just a couple of days left of hols, and I'm more than ready to get back in school and away from all of this. I wish my brothers weren't such drama queens and could act normal for once, then maybe I wouldn't be so miserable here in all this silence. It's annoying, and I hate it. It's a constant, though, so I'm more than a little shocked when Mum suddenly shows up in my room and asks if I want to go shopping.

"Shopping for what?" I ask skeptically.

"For clothes, of course!" She says this with ridiculous fake enthusiasm, which, of course, immediately tips me off to the fact that there's a catch.

Still, though. I'm a sucker for shopping…

We end up in Muggle London, which is perfectly fine with me. I'm glad that when Mum said clothes shopping that she meant actual clothes and not robes. I have a certain affinity for Muggle clothes, and the more expensive, the better. London's full of some of the highest end stores in the world. Every major fashion designer in existence has a shop here, and I absolutely _adore _it. I could spend hours just walking around the shops and window shopping, though, of course, I'm much happier when I actually get to purchase things.

In fact, I'm downright giddy!

Mum doesn't usually like for me to shop in these places. She thinks it's too extravagant, and she loves to throw around words like "over-indulgent" and "spoiled." Occasionally, she'll splurge with me, though, and we'll end up on mini-shopping sprees. _Very_ occasionally.

Apparently, today is one of those occasions.

"How do you like this one?" I ask, exiting the dressing room of Koh Samui, my absolute favorite place in the entire universe. I still remember the very first time I ever stepped foot into this place. I was six, and, of course, I was being babysat by my aunt Fleur (who else would bring me shopping instead of the park?). I fell in love, and now I'm positively _obsessed._

"I think it's a little old_," _Mum replies grimly.

"_Old? _Mum, Frenchie McClure is one of the newest up and coming designers in the city!"

"Not the design, Lil. That dress is too old for you. You look twenty years old in it."

"So?" I admire myself in the floor length mirror. "What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that is the fact that you're _thirteen," _she answers back immediately, coming up behind me and yanking the sweeping neckline of the dress up.

"I'll be fourteen in two weeks."

She doesn't even entertain it. "Next."

I roll my eyes at her but don't bother arguing. Instead, I stomp back into the dressing room and carefully remove the first dress and pull on the second. It's a vintage design, which, of course, means no one else will have it. _Tricia Panabaker _won't have it, and it'll drive her absolutely mad if she spots me in it. Of course, I haven't the faintest idea where I'd ever wear something like this at school, but I'm sure I can come up with something.

It fits perfectly, and I can't help smiling at my own reflection. I don't like to think of myself as vain, but I do think I'm pretty. And I sort of have a thing about mirrors… Al says it's impossible for me to use a spoon without checking my reflection. It's a horrid habit, of course, but I don't see much I can do about it.

I can tell Mum approves of this dress much more than she did of the last. She smiles at me as I model it for her, twirling around so she can see it from every angle. "So?" I ask eagerly. "What d'you think?"

"I think that one's beautiful," she says honestly. "Do you like it?"

"I _love _it," I say seriously, _so _happy that I can finally fit into adult clothing (rather small adult clothing, but still) and that I can actually try on _clothes _here instead of just coveting them and settling for the jewelry and handbags. Mum reaches for the pinned on tag, and her eyes bulge just a bit. "Four-hundred pounds? Lily, it isn't even _new…"_

"It's _vintage," _I correct her immediately. "Which means _no one _else has it, Mum. Please?" I give her my most pathetic look, complete with fluttering eyelashes. If Dad was here, I'd have the dress, shoes, and a matching bag by now.

Mum, on the other hand, is a bit more difficult. She must be in a very giving mood, though, because she finally relents and tells me to take the dress off so she can buy it. She's obviously got some ulterior motive, but I can't make myself care too much as I carefully place it back on its hanger and pull my jeans back on. I very nearly squeal as I exit the dressing room yet again and hand it over. Mum takes it absently as she studies a rather steep pair of shoes for herself.

"Don't," I warn her seriously. "You'll never be able to walk straight."

She looks at me sharply and then narrows her eyes as she playfully shoves me. "I can walk in heels, I'll have you know."

"Not in _those _heels."

Mum rolls her eyes, and we go up to the counter, but not before I manage to talk her into a pair of earrings and a matching beaded bracelet that'll set the dress off perfectly. On the way out of the store, I feel a sudden burst of affection for my mother (most likely brought on by the four-hundred and sixty quid worth of merchandise in my bag). I grab Mum's hand and cuddle up to her.

"You are the best mother in the entire universe!"

She laughs, not buying the act for a second, but she goes along with it. "You remember that when I'm old and need someone to look after me."

We spend the next hour or so just walking the streets, talking, and laughing. It's actually rather fun, considering the fact that I normally try to avoid any and all conversation with her. She is being awfully nice to me, I assume to make up for the fact that she and Dad are ruining our lives. Oh well, I'll be the first to admit that I am very easily bought.

I do make a suggestion, though, despite the fact that I'm positive she won't go for it.

"Can we go by the Ministry?"

She looks at me oddly as we pass a group of tourists who are posing by the Covent Garden Underground sign. "Why do you want to go to the Ministry?"

I shrug as nonchalantly as possible. "I dunno, I just haven't seen Dad that much, and the break's nearly over."

She feels guilty, I can tell by the look on her face. She doesn't want to go to the Ministry, but she isn't going to tell me that I can't go visit my father. That would make her unfair and childish, and I can tell by her entire demeanor that those are two things she's determined not to be.

Sometimes parents are just _too _easy.

Mum Apparates us to the visitor's entrance, and we both slip inside the telephone box as inconspicuously as possible. She is fidgeting irritably as we make our way down to the Ministry, and when we arrive in the enormous bustle of the main entryway, she unconsciously straightens out her jacket and tosses her hair a little. I hide my smile well.

Dad's office is several levels down, and I'm pretty sure Mum walks slowly on purpose, just to prolong the inevitable meeting. I don't know what I'm expecting to happen, but I'm excited to see it whatever it is. I don't believe that they aren't in love, and if they just start spending time together again, I'm sure they'll see it. Their whole idea of separating in an attempt to "work things out" is a crock of shit, and they both know it. Or at least I know. And if they don't, they're about to learn it.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite sister."

We both sort of jump when Uncle Ron sneaks up on us from behind. Mum immediately turns around and smacks him, though, which is slightly amusing.

"And what brings the two of you here?" he asks, slipping an arm around both of our shoulders as he walks us back through the various rows of desks and shelves.

Mum answers with a very simple one word answer. "Lily."

He looks down at me, and I smile up innocently. He surveys me suspiciously for a second and then shakes his head. "Ah, Lily. You're not dating any white-headed Malfoy devil children, are you?"

"There's only one." I flash my teeth again sweetly. "And my cousin got to him first."

Uncle Ron immediately goes extremely red, and his face darkens. It's amusing. Mum apparently thinks so, too, because she snickers loudly from his other side. Without missing a beat, he snaps his head around to glare at her, but despite her poorly-attempted struggles, she can't control the next several snickers that fall from her lips, either.

"How in the _hell _do you find this funny?" he demands lowly.

Mum just shakes her head. "I'm not getting into it," she promises, though she can't hide the humored smile on her face.

The secretary spots us and waves nicely before pressing a tiny button on her desk. Dad's voice answers her call, and she calmly says, "Mr. Potter, your daughter and wife are here to see you."

Wife.

She said "your wife." Not "your recently estranged wife" or "the woman you're currently separated from" or even "Ginny." Just simply "your wife." Apparently the secretary is on my side.

When Dad shows up, I make a big show of throwing myself at him and hugging him tightly. He is surprised by my sudden show of affection, but he hugs me back anyway, even though he _does _sort of look at me funny when he pulls away.

"What're you doing here?" he asks, more to me than to mum, though he does glance up at her.

"I just wanted to see you," I say, laying it on as thick as I possibly know how. "I miss you."

He frowns uncomfortably. I see him glance over my shoulder, but then I realize he's looking at my uncle and not my mother. The two of them have this secret way of communicating without speaking, and it's actually rather annoying because you never know what they're saying. I assume that Dad is asking him why I've suddenly gone mental, and Uncle Ron is probably saying something back along the lines of, "At least she's not two steps away from being knocked up with the anti-Christ."

Or, you know, at least in my head that's how the conversation is going.

"Daddy, look what I got!" I say with as much forced enthusiasm as possible. I also pull out the _Daddy _trick to get him feeling extra guilty. Setting my bag down on the nearest desk, I pull out the dress and show it off for him.

He immediately, of course, reaches straight for the tag and lets out a low breath. "What'd you do to deserve _that?"_

I shrug nonchalantly. "Mum got it for me because it was our special day out."

Okay, I totally just made that up in my head, but it sounds good. Maybe that will make him jealous- that Mum and I are out on special days and some other fluffy bullshit I've yet to pull out of my arse.

I start prattling on about all the things we've done today, making the simple shopping trip sound much more entertaining than it's actually been. I keep expecting Mum to break in and correct me when I sneak in the occasional made up detail, but then I notice the distracted look on Dad's face as he pretends to listen to me. He keeps glancing over at something behind my head with an odd look on his face. Finally, I turn my own head around to see what's got him so preoccupied, and suddenly I don't feel quite as giddy. Mum is leaning against one of the Auror's desks and talking lowly to him about something. She keeps laughing as though he's the funniest person in the world, and every so often, she flips her hair over her shoulder and cracks up all over again.

I watch with something close to mild horror as her own eyes flitter away from her conversation ever-so-briefly and meet Dad's. The soft smirk on her face is either challenging or triumphant. Maybe it's a mix of both, I can't tell. His eyes darken just slightly as she once again tosses her hair and turns back to her hilarity-filled conversation.

And I don't really feel like faking the enthusiasm anymore.

A/N: Well, there's Lily. Finally. For all of you who were hoping for Scorpius, don't worry, he's up next. This chapter was all over the place, but that's the only way I could get it written. I'm sorry if it doesn't flow perfectly, but she's very difficult to write. Thanks to everyone who left reviews on the last chapter, sorry this one's taken awhile!

By the way, Koh Samui is a real boutique and MY absolute favorite place in the world, so if you ever find yourself in London, make sure to drop in!


	39. Scorpius, Heaven and Hell

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 39

**SCORPIUS, HEAVEN AND HELL**

--

I'm not really sure what my views on heaven, hell, and everything in between are. I've honestly never given it much thought. I do think, though, that if hell is real it must be pretty close to an eternity of the week I've just lived. Because I've never been so miserable in my entire life. It's weird how the best moments of your life can also be the worst. It's a strange fact of nature that some of the best things have to come with the worst consequences.

I was very much in trouble when I got home from Rose's. That's to be expected, I suppose, considering the fact that I took off with no warning and no word and stayed gone for nearly two days. It was still weird, though, mostly because I've never really gotten into trouble an awful lot. I don't do a lot of bad things, and if my mouth ever gets away from me, I usually shut up after one warning look. I'm just not used to being in trouble.

I knew I was in deep shit the second I stepped out of the fire, though. Mother showed up immediately, and she looked as though she was seriously considering beating me to death and refraining only because it might cause her to break a nail. She definitely let me have it, though, screaming at the top of her voice that I bloody well better have a damn good explanation of where I'd been.

I didn't, of course, so I just told the truth. It was better than a lie, I supposed. "I ran away."

"You ran away? You _ran-" _She threw her hands into the air dramatically, and I wondered how easy it was to have a brain aneurysm. She definitely looked close enough

"I didn't want to deal with Grandfather," I explained more fully.

Mother rolled her eyes. "Well, if you think you've avoided _that _conversation, you're terribly wrong."

I knew she was right, but strangely, I wasn't so worried anymore.

Father showed up, too, strolling into the room slowly. He didn't initially say to much. He just sort of looked at me, his eyes betraying the calm of his face. It was an uncomfortable moment as we looked at each other, neither willing to be the first to break eye contact. Finally, he asked me where I'd been, and I gave him the same answer I'd given Mother. "I ran away."

It occurred to me then that no one had bothered to look for me or even report me missing. I didn't have an opportunity to dwell on it, though, because Father then asked the question that Mother had not.

"Where did you go?"

He already knew the answer, I could tell. If I said anything else, he'd know I was lying. I wasn't sure _how _serious an offense lying was, but I didn't want to take the risk.

So, I answered as vaguely as possible instead.

"London."

His face never broke away from the calm demeanor. His eyes, though, flashed furiously with the confirmation of his assumptions. "And I'm sure you were welcomed into their home with open arms," he said coolly.

He knew. He'd known the second I was discovered as missing, I was sure. A strange sort of confidence slowly started flooding me, and I somehow managed not to flinch. "I came back."

"If you think that's going to get you out of trouble…" Mother was furious. "Punish him!" she ordered shrilly, looking wildly at Father who regarded her as calmly as he did me.

He looked back at me, his face slightly bored. "You're grounded."

I'd never, in nearly sixteen years of life, been grounded. I realize how lame that must sound, but I'd never done anything to _get _grounded. The idea in itself was laughable anyway. What was I being grounded from? It even _sounded _ridiculous. Still, I don't know what gave me the confidence to stand my ground, but it was there.

"What am I being punished for?" I asked, my voice a near mirror of his own calmness. "For running away? Then fine, I deserve it." He raised his eyebrows at me curiously. "But if it's because of Rose… you can't do anything about that. You can ground me if you want, but it isn't going to change anything."

I was surprised even with myself. I was also sort of terrified because while Mother looked positively shocked, Father looked much more dangerous.

"You have no idea what you're doing," he said, his voice rising out of its eerie calm for the first time. "I don't know what's going on inside your head or what delusions you're dead set on living out, but this is never going to be allowed."

"Who isn't going to allow it?" I asked challengingly, feeling more and more confident by the second. "You?"

He shook his head pityingly and gave me a sad, sarcastic smile. "I know everyone thinks they're all open and loving and friendly over there," I didn't have to ask where over there was, "but I can promise you that they aren't going to stand for this. You will never be welcome there."

It was the first time we'd actually _discussed _it. When the paper had initially arrived, Father had said nothing, and I certainly hadn't asked for his thoughts. I watched him carefully as he continued right along.

"And you're delusional, Scorpius. That girl doesn't _care _for you, she's simply using you as some ridiculous teenage rebellion stunt."

His words stung more than I wanted them to. I knew why Rose had originally shown interest in me, and I didn't need the reminder. Still, he had no idea what he was talking about.

"You don't even know her," I said lowly, willing my voice not to give me away.

But Father just shook his head again. "I don't need to _know _her. I know where she _came_ from. I know her idiot father and her know-it-all self-righteous mother. And if you think for one second that they're going to stand for this, you're an absolute fool."

"It doesn't matter what they think," I shot back angrily. "It doesn't matter what _you _think, either!"

"You watch your tone," Mother hissed warningly. Father and I both ignored her.

"That girl has to live by more rules than you could possibly imagine," he sneered. "I don't care how idealistic either of you are, she's _not _going to break them."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't matter. I stood my ground firmly and took a deep breath. "I don't care what you think."

His eyes darkened. A long pause filled the air, and then, "Go to your room, Scorpius," as calmly as if the conversation had just begun.

"It doesn't matter," I went on, ignoring him completely. "You can like it or you cannot like it, but it isn't going to change anything."

"_Go to your room," _he bit out as evenly as possible, though it sounded more like a hiss.

I went. I didn't care anymore at that point. I'd said everything I wanted to say, and I knew I was probably digging myself a deeper grave with each word, but I still felt strangely uplifted as I climbed the stairs to my room. I had stood up for myself, and I was proud of it.

I spent the next day locked in my room, ignoring my parents the same as they ignored me. I had a feeling that Mother wanted to yell at me some more, but Father wasn't letting her. They just left me alone, and that was the way I preferred it. I wrote Rose to tell her that I was still alive. I didn't go into details about the conversation because I didn't want her feelings to be hurt by the things my father had said about her family. I did give her the general gist, though, and I told her that I was in as much trouble as I'd originally suspected. My parents weren't happy, and they were no longer making any secret of it.

She wrote back and told me she wished I was still hiding in her closet.

Like I said, it's awful how so much good and so much bad can get mixed together and taint each other. I was truly quite put out by the argument with my father, but I couldn't even really pay that much attention to it. Not when there was something so much better to focus on. That short time spent in her bedroom was pretty much the highlight of my life. And I'm not even saying that as some stupidly hormonal teenage boy, of which I definitely _am _one. But everything about it was amazing- _finally _kissing her the way I'd been imagining since I was, oh, I don't know, twelve years old, being with her in her bedroom on her _bed, _being that _close _to her… When she took her shirt off, I wanted to stare; I wanted to take a bit, five minutes or an hour, and just _memorize _everything about her. Of course, I was too embarrassed to do anything, and she was apparently just as mortified because I really didn't get to see too much at all… I'm not complaining, though, it was still more than I ever thought I'd see.

Rose is so beautiful. Like really, truly _gorgeous. _And she doesn't even know it, which is the worst (or perhaps best) part of it. She's self-conscious and shy about her looks, and she isn't the best receiver of compliments. But she's just fucking _beautiful. _I think she's easily the prettiest girl in school, and I don't even think I'm being overly-biased. She's the kind of beautiful that doesn't have to try, it's just effortless.

She's absolutely completely brilliant, obviously, and that just makes her even more attractive. She isn't embarrassed about being smart, but I don't find her to be annoying about it, either. She knows loads more than anyone else, but she's never snobbish about it. She'll help anyone if they ask, and she really cares about making people understand things. She doesn't normally brag about her grades, but she doesn't downplay her intelligence, either.

There's nothing about Rose that makes me even remotely worthy of her. I don't understand what she sees or why she even likes me? Truthfully, I've spent a good portion of these past couple of months worried that maybe she really _was _doing all of this to piss her parents off, but after that day in her bedroom, I don't have to worry about that anymore. We had an actual real conversation, one that included her asking me if I was breaking up with her. _Breaking up with her. _Now, I don't want to be too overly analytical, but in order for me to break up with her, I must technically be dating her in the first place… And since she _asked _that, she must consider us to be dating… Which really means I've got a girlfriend… And that that girlfriend is Rose Weasley.

And that's where the heaven part comes in.

The _hell _part, on the other hand, happened the day after I returned from my short foray into the life of a teenage runaway.

Just as Mother promised, I was still doomed to _that _conversation- the inevitable conversation about my being an embarrassment to the entire Malfoy lineage. I was expecting it and attempting to brace myself for it, despite the fact that I was secretly hoping it just wouldn't happen period. But, of course, it did.

And my grandfather announced his arrival by presenting himself in the classiest way imaginable- he stood at the bottom of the staircase and yelled for me to come down. Nice.

I won't lie, though, my heart pretty much stopped beating in that moment. I immediately sort of panicked and wondered what the hell I was going to say that would in any way, shape, or form be a defense against what I was positive was going to be a full out blood bath. My grandfather was going to rip me to shreds, of that I was sure. I was okay, though, I knew what was coming, and I knew that I could now stand up for myself.

So I went downstairs, and I wasn't surprised by what I found. My grandfather was standing by the edge of the staircase, watching me closely as I slowly came down. My parents were there, too, though they were both off to the side somewhere. Mother looked strangely smug, as though she was glad I was finally going to get what was coming to me. Father's face was unreadable. I caught his eye just briefly, but he immediately looked away. I don't know where my grandmother was, but I didn't think to ask or even notice in the moment.

I did a good job of keeping my face calm, and I did my best to mirror Father's unreadable expression. I made eye contact with Grandfather and tried to convey that I wasn't scared of him and that I wasn't going to be bullied. Of course, he is the type of man who _lives _for bullying, so I wasn't very surprised that he didn't pay me much attention.

"Scorpius," he said with forced cordiality. He nodded his head at me in what I guess was supposed to be a greeting.

"Hello, Grandfather," I said back, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

We stared at each other wordlessly for a long moment, and I could very nearly _hear _his thoughts as he imagined all the different ways he could have me killed and tried to determine the most tortuous method.

"It's nice of you to join us again," he said sternly. "I expect your impromptu trip was enjoyable?"

"Yes, quite," I said back immediately. He wasn't expecting that, and he grimaced just slightly.

"And school, I assume, is going well?" His raised eyebrows let me know it was a challenge, but I didn't see the point in being the one to pick the fight.

"Yes, it's fine."

"I see you've found some unbecoming distractions."

"I don't think your definition of unbecoming is correct."

And that was all I needed to say apparently because Grandfather's ridiculous cool demeanor immediately darkened, and his eyes narrowed in my direction. "If I were you, I'd think twice before attempting such insubordination."

I wasn't entirely positive that he knew the correct definition of insubordination, either, but I didn't say that out loud. I had a feeling that the inevitable handprint across my face would probably take longer to fade than I cared to risk. So I just stood calmly and said, "I already know why you're here."

"Oh, you do? And why, may I ask, is that?"

He was trying to intimidate me, trying to scare me. I wasn't going to let him. "I've already had this conversation with my parents. _You_ can't do anything about it, either."

I didn't have to say what _it _I was referring to because Grandfather's entire face turned menacing, and he downright glared at me. It was scary. He'd never looked at me like that before, and I certainly didn't care for it or have any desire to be on the receiving end of that Look of Death.

His voice was low and threatening. "You will _stop _this, do you understand me?"

I was sick of it. I was sick of being told how to live my life, and I was _done. _"You can't make me do anything," I told him, betraying my own slight fright with a sense of courage. "You don't have any control over it," I glanced back quickly at my father. "_None _of you have any control over it."

"I _forbid _it," Grandfather hissed seriously. "You're not going to go about making a mockery of this family's name! I won't allow it."

I couldn't help it. I laughed, or more like snorted. "This _family's name _is already a mockery," I said disbelievingly. "You took care of that _years_ ago."

Honestly, I was shocked when he didn't hit me. He did, however, grab my arm and squeeze it so tightly that I've now got a bruise. I tried to back away, but he was surprisingly strong for an old man.

"You listen to me," he ordered sharply. "I will not have this!"

Again, I tried to pull away, but it was impossible with the way he was gripping my arm.

"Let go of him." It was Father who spoke up, and I jerked my head around to stare at him in shock. Everyone else did, too, and I could tell they were just as surprised as I was to hear him speak.

Grandfather glared at _him_, too. "This is all _your _fault," he accused. "You do know that, don't you?"

Father didn't flinch. "Let him go," he repeatedly slowly.

Grandfather ignored him. "You let him run wild. This boy has no discipline!"

When it was clear that my grandfather was not going to release his hold on me, Father finally walked over and physically forced him to let go of me, ripping his hand away and stepping between us. I was too shocked to say or do anything, and the look on Mother's face mirrored my own.

"This is your fault," Grandfather said again. "You have absolutely no control over him!"

Father said nothing.

"You let him run off to that god-forsaken school… What did you expect would happen? It's no wonder this happened, his head is full of all the rubbish they're teaching there. He needs to be taught a _real _lesson."

Father's head snapped up, and his face was as serious as I'd ever seen it. "He's _my _son. This isn't your concern."

"The hell it isn't," he bit back. "If you won't do anything about it, _I _will."

"You should go."

Grandfather's jaw was slack, and he looked as though he might kill over from shock. "You're just going to _stand _there and let him make a fool of this family?!"

"Oh, for god's sake, Father! Scorpius is right. There's no family dignity to _make _a fool of."

Father's words seemed to ring for an eternity before Grandfather finally composed himself enough to get in his next punch. His voice was back to its eerie cold calmness. "Well, then. I hope you both enjoy contaminating yourselves with all the filth that girl and her dirty Mudblood cunt of a mother have to share."

That pushed me over the edge. "Don't say that about her!"

"Scorpius." Father looked at me warningly. I ignored him.

"You have no right to say those things! Her mother has already done more than most people do in a lifetime!"

"Do you _hear _this??" Grandfather asked, clearly outraged.

"Scorpius, _go," _Father said again.

I wasn't done, though, and I figured that if I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly. "Don't you even realize how _ignorant _all that blood nonsense makes you sound?!"

"Astoria!" Apparently Father gave up on me listening to him and decided to resort to involving my mother. She grabbed me by the shoulders and immediately removed me from the room. I didn't fight her obviously, but I also wasn't pleased by the thought of my father and grandfather continuing a conversation about me while I wasn't present.

Five minutes later, when Father passed through the kitchen where Mother and I were waiting, his face was unreadable. He looked first at Mother and then at me. I didn't say anything, just attempted to read his expression. He said nothing, either, just shook his head once and then continued through the room.

I still don't know exactly what happened, but Grandfather has not been back since. I suppose he's probably been busy with his legal advisors rewriting his will or something. Father hasn't mentioned it, and it's understood to be a closed subject. I'm still "grounded," though from what, I've no idea. It doesn't matter anyway, as school's back on, and I couldn't be happier.

I'm surprised Father decided to join us on the way back to the train. He doesn't always make the trip to London with us, and I imagined that he certainly wouldn't this time, not with all of issues that are currently surrounding us. But he did, and as we walk into the station, he seems strangely determined.

Platform 9 ¾ is always crowded and busy, and today is no different. A lot of my classmates are grumbling about the end of vacation. Normally, I wouldn't blame them, but at the moment, I'd rather be at school than anywhere else in the world. I'm not doing a very good job of drowning the anticipation I'm feeling about being back in the company of the one person in the entire universe that I can currently tolerate.

And, of course, it isn't difficult to spot her, either.

She's standing with her family, and I can tell from all the way across the platform that she's arguing with her brother over something. Their mother is hissing something at them quietly, all too aware of the various reporters who are surrounding them, eager, no doubt, to find another crowd stopping headline. Rose looks amazing as usual, despite the fact that she's obviously dressed for a day of travel in a simple jumper and a pair of jeans. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, but bits of it are peeking out, leaving a few random curls misplaced as usual. I want to run straight over to her, but, of course, that's impossible. She does look up and catch my eye, though, which causes a smile that's somewhere between shy and mischievous.

And suddenly, I really don't care about anything else that's happened in the past week.

Her father notices her smile, though, and he follows her gaze. His own expression is anything but a smile. In fact, he actually looks as though he may Avada Kedavra me right then and there. I wonder if he might be able to get away with it if his wife is Minister of Magic. Probably. So, yeah, that's not so good.

Before I even realize it, he's stalking toward his looking thoroughly pissed off and one-hundred percent murderous. My own father has a very similar look and stands still, glaring straight back. I'm panicking, of course, because that's a fairly normal reaction for someone who's about to be murdered. Rose looks just as terrified as she hurries after her father, shoving her way through the crowds of people.

"I just want you to know one thing," her father says roughly, the second he gets within our hearing distance. He's speaking to Father, not to me, which I suppose is good, except for the fact that Father doesn't appear deterred from a fight at all. "If your _son," _he spits the word as though it's a swear, "so much as _thinks _about my daughter in the wrong way, I'll personally snap every bone in his body."

Oh. Awesome.

"Well played, Weasley," Father sneers back, and I get the very terrible feeling that he's secretly enjoying this. "Threaten a fifteen year old, that's wonderful."

"Yeah, well, consider it a promise." He glares at me for a hard second before turning back to Father. "And after I'm finished with him, you can _guarantee _I'll finish you off as well."

"Dad!" Rose finally breaks through the crowd, and she has a murderous look of her own, nearly identical to her father's. She looks as though she's ready to kill him right there. "Stop."

He ignores her, of course, but my father regards her with a somewhat sarcastic sort of smile. "Your father was just telling my son how he plans to, what were his exact words? Oh, yes, 'snap every bone in his body'."

Rose's eyes double, and she looks horrified. _"Dad!" _she nearly shouts, outraged.

He just shrugs. "He should have fair warning."

"Oh, don't worry," Father placates Rose. "Your father has always been all talk and no action."

Mr. Weasley looks as if he's about to prove Father wrong, but his wife shows up at just the right moment and steps between them. "Stop it," she says lowly. "Now."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the future Minister of Magic," Father says, his 'nice' tone dripping with sarcasm. "I believe congratulations are in order."

Mrs. Weasley turns slowly and looks at him as if she'd like nothing more than to punch him in the nose. She says nothing, quite obviously picking up on his sarcastic tone. It appears to take every ounce of her self-control to stay unbaited, though.

Rose looks like she wants to die, and I don't blame her. I certainly empathize with her, and when she grabs my hand and tugs me toward the train without a word to anyone, I don't stop her. She yanks me along, but she stops short right before we get to an entrance. A short man in an ugly hat steps directly in front of us, and I'm all but blinded by the flash of his camera. Rose blinks several times and looks confused for a second. A second's all we have, though, because her father is there in an instant. He immediately yanks the camera out of the little man's hand and smashes it to the ground.

"Hey!" protests the photographer, looking down at his crushed camera incredulously.

"If you ever go near my daughter again, next time I'll break your neck, too." He kicks the mangled camera across the platform and then stalks away.

Everyone around us is staring, and Rose looks stunned for about half a minute before she finally snaps out of it and hurries onto the train. I follow her, of course, mostly because she's still gripping my hand so hard that I couldn't stay behind even if I wanted to. But I don't want to.

"They're all idiots," she says angrily, slamming open a door and slipping into an empty compartment.

I agree with her completely. "We don't have to listen to them for awhile."

Rose's scowl turns slightly upward, and she pulls me toward her for a kiss. It's a perfect kiss, just like they all are. And I enjoy it very much.

"We don't have to listen to them ever," she says, finally smiling as she pulls away.

The door to the compartment slides open again, and her cousin Al enters. He looks pretty much completely put out as he slings a bag down onto the floor. I assume it's hers, as she certainly isn't carrying her own. He looks at her crossly.

"Your mum says to tell you she loves you."

He pushes his glasses up his nose and then sort of looks at me like he wants to hex me. I just stare back.

"Thanks for bringing my bag," Rose says, finally dropping my hand to bend down and move it to the overhead.

"Whatever," Al says grumpily. He moves to leave, but Rose stops him.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to ride with us?"

"I figured you'd want to be _alone."_

We do. Thanks for playing. See you in Scotland.

"Don't be silly." Ah, Rose isn't on the same level as me apparently. "Of course, you can ride with us! You two need to get to know each other anyway." She grabs both of our hands and pulls us into opposite seats. We stare at each other, scrutinizing and inherently disliking each other for no good reason.

It's going to be a _long _ride.

--

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!


	40. Kate, Perfection Isn't Real

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 40

**KATE, PERFECTION ISN'T REAL**

--

I grew up hearing stories of Harry Potter, just like every other child in the Wizarding World. The stories were the same that you find in any history book, though, of course, they were spiced up a bit for entertainment purposes. He was a hero and someone to truly be admired and yada, yada, yada. It was cool, of course, don't get me wrong. I thought he must be terribly heroic and awesome, but I never really thought about him as anything other than the subject of legends.

Then I turned eleven years old and ended up sitting beside his son in Charms.

James Potter was _not _a very attentive student, to say the very least. He nearly took my eye out with Wingardium Leviosa, and when I tried to correct him, he told me that my nose was crooked. That is not a lie. That was his exact response. "So? Your nose is crooked." Now… what the alignment of my nose had to do with Charms, I did not know, and I still do not know six years later. I do remember deciding to hate him that day, though. It was the only logical reaction, of course, because I did develop rather a complex about my nose after that, thanks entirely to him.

James at eleven was not much different than James at eighteen. He was already completely full of himself and cocky to a fault. He seemed to think he owned the world, and he suffered from a severe case of superiority disorder. Of course, everyone around him kissed his arse and sucked up to him, just because of his name and who his dad was. It was extremely annoying, and it didn't do much to quell my distaste of him.

Still. When he asked to copy my homework, I let him.

When I was fifteen, I started sleeping with him.

It was a bit whorish, I suppose, considering the fact that I was a more than willing participant before he ever expressed any sort of _real _interest in me. He was my first, and I can assure you that there was absolutely nothing romantic about that night spent locked in the fourth floor storage cupboard. The worst part, though, was the fact that I still sort of hated him. Okay, so _hate _is a bit strong, but I definitely didn't find too many redeeming qualities in him. But he was James Potter, and by that time, he was already the most popular boy in school, even as a Fifth Year. He was a star Quidditch player and the center of any and all school gossip. So I decided to follow the crowds, figuring that it couldn't hurt. He was already sleeping with half the female Hogwarts population, and I was nothing more than a number to him. So, yes, whorish is an accurate description, considering the fact that he called me "Kayla" that first night…

Time passed, though, and it wasn't long before he definitely knew my name. We started getting closer, and before long, I really considered him my friend- maybe even my _best _friend. And that was weird because I wasn't really the type of girl who went around shagging my best friends… But James and I just sort of complimented each other, and he eventually started telling me I was his favorite girl and that he really liked me. The problem, of course, was that he was still fucking about fifteen other girls at any given time.

But now he's not.

Now he's only with me, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't more than a little pleased about it. I'm his very first girlfriend- _me. _He gave up _all _the other girls. For _me. _And yeah, it's worth a bit of a gloat…

But it's more than that. I like him. I really, _really _like him. And he likes me, too. I know because he makes a habit of telling me about twenty times a day. It's great, too. I love hearing it, and he has a tendency to always know when I _need _to hear it. He's so different from what I'd expected, it's almost ridiculous. I'd expected that if he took me up on the ultimatum that he would be exactly the same as before- rude, inconsiderate, and slightly annoying. But he isn't. He's actually really, _really _nice to me, and it's just everything I hoped (but didn't believe) it would be. Which, of course, scares me just a little bit.

I don't believe in perfection. Anything that's perfect can't logically be real, so it scares me that I can't seem to find any faults. Of course, I'm not perfect, and James certainly isn't, either, but I sort of feel like we fit each other and _become _something perfect. Because whenever I'm around him, I don't ever feel anything but blissfully happy. And that's the part that frightens me. Because I've always heard that if something's too good to be true, it's probably fake. And I really don't want this to be fake…

My mother is absolutely shit over the moon about it. She thinks it's fabulous, but, of course, she thinks that for all the wrong reasons. When she first found out, she was extra pushy about it, and the week of Easter hols, I very nearly packed up my things and left, just to save myself from having to hear about how smart I am for picking someone of such good "stature." And how James Potter is the absolute best case scenario, so good on me!

She's acting as if we're getting married tomorrow.

Beyond that, she's acting as though I'm some sort of social climbing slag who's just after James for his name and money. And I really couldn't give two shits about any of that. Half the time, I forget that he even _is _Harry Potter's son, and the only reason it's ever important is because it gives me good ammunition for taking the piss out of him. It's not about any of that other stuff, and it sort of makes me sick that my mum seems to think that's the only reason I should be interested in him- or rather that those are the only important qualities of men period.

I'm not surprised, of course. It's my mother, after all, and she's been married five times. Every single one of them has been what she considers to be a "step up" from the last, and that's honestly what she bases her relationships on. It's sad. Mum and I haven't seen eye to eye on a lot in a long while. She still lives under the ridiculous assumption that I'm going to turn into her clone one day, and I'm not definitely _not _going to turn into her. When I cut my hair off, she nearly had a conniption fit and told me I'd never _find _a boy if I looked like one. So I started wearing my skirts shorter to counteract it- for her behalf, of course. My mother's such an idiot… I'm partly glad, though, because growing up with that has made me realize exactly what I _don't _want to be. It does make me worry, though, that everyone sees things the way she does.

I've heard all the things that have been said, of course, heard that I'm only after James for this reason or that reason or _whatever. _I've heard that I must secretly be knocked up because no way would James Potter ever choose _me _if he didn't have to. I've heard that I'm not pretty enough, that I'm too weird, that he's in danger of not graduating and needs someone to do his homework… I've heard all of it. For the most part, I'm able to ignore it because I know none of those things are true. But still, I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt a bit anyway.

James doesn't pay attention to any of it. He seems to have some sort of superpower that only allows him to hear positive things, while completely blocking out anything and everything that might be construed as negative. He ignores all the whispers, but it's harder for me because, you know, I'm _not _the most popular girl in school. I'm _not _the female equivalent of James, and people are _not _going to just love me no matter what. So it's rough.

But I think it's worth it.

Six years later, I still sit beside him in Charms, and he's _still _a bit overzealous with his wand work.

"Would you effin' watch where you put that thing? Are you _trying _to blind me?" I ask, only half-joking.

He grins at me, that stupid crooked smile that I foolishly adore. "Of course not, if you're blind, who would be there to tell me how hot I look all the time?"

I roll my eyes. "Oh, I'm sure you could find _someone… _Just ask one of your groupies."

"Look, love, don't hate on the groupies, okay? They're what keep us in the headlines." Again with the crooked grin. Sometimes I want to punch him, but then I always end up wanting to shag him instead… Strange, that.

"Is there a problem? Mr. Potter? Miss Milton?" Professor Flitwick eyes us from his stool across the room.

Even Flitwick isn't immune to that infamous Potter grin, and when James flashes it in his direction with a frighteningly innocent. "No problem, Professor. Miss Milton was just assisting me with my wand work."

"I thought that's what she was doing this morning at about three-thirty?" Brampton snorts at his own muttered joke, and James, of course, is a very predictable teenage boy and laughs, too.

And Penny Fammons, who hates me for no good reason whatsoever, looks over at us like she smells something awful and mutters something that sounds an awful lot like, "Slut."

My mouth falls open, and I stare at her in shock. Literal _shock._

"Oh, no," I say in disbelief. _"You_ didn't…" I can't even get the words out. Meanwhile, James and all his friends are looking on, clearly very amused.

Penny just sneers back.

"Excuse me," Professor Flitwick says loudly, looking over to our side of the room crossly. _"If _any of you want to pass this class and actually _graduate, _I suggest you turn your attention back to chapter twenty-two."

Everyone follows his suggestion, mostly because none of us are willing to take _any _chances on graduation, but when James tries to coyly slip an arm around me, I shrug it off irritably. He looks at me oddly, but my return glare makes him drop the issue.

At least until after class.

"What's up with you?" he asks half-absently as he bumps fists with Brampton and Elliott before turning back around to wait on me to pack up.

"Nothing's wrong," I reply shortly, grabbing up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

James reaches for it, "Here, let me get-"

But I turn away and clutch it to me. "I can carry my own bag, thank you."

"God, what's got your knickers all in a twist?" He follows me through the rows of tables and out into the corridor.

Snapping my head around, I shoot him a little glare. "Did you not _hear _that bitch? She called me a _slut," _I hiss at him, shoving my way through the crowds of students who are now filling the hallway.

James doesn't seem to see the big deal, though. Big surprise… "So?" he shrugs, completely blasé. "Who cares what Penny says? _Penny… _now, _she's _a slut. Trust me, I know who the sluts are in this school."

Good _lord. _Was it not five minutes ago that I was thinking this idiot was perfect? _Now_ who's the idiot?

"You don't have to remind me," I snap.

James sighs and slips an arm around my waist, one hand resting on my hip as the other reaches across me to successfully take my bag this time. I let him have it, but I don't react to his touch at all.

"Don't be mad at me," he says quietly, laying it on thick. I know what he's doing. I'm smarter than he is.

"You didn't even say anything."

"That's because Flitwick made us shut up!" I glare at him, and he raises his eyebrows. "Look, do you want me to go find Penny right now and tell her she's a fucking bitch?"

"No, I wanted you to stand up for me when she was talking shit about me in front of the entire class."

"I'm sorry." He looks at me with those stupid puppy dog eyes that don't do much to quell my desire to punch him and rip his clothes off at the same time. "She's just jealous of you anyway."

"Oh, yeah?" I roll my eyes. "I'm sure."

"She is," he insists. "Because you're so much smarter than her." He raises his eyebrows and grins at me. "And you are definitely _way _hotter than she is." He pulls me closer and gives my hip a squeeze as he kisses my cheek.

"You should take up for me," I say stubbornly, though my resolve is melting quickly. "I'm supposed to be your girlfriend."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his voice even and sincere. I keep my eyes trained straight ahead, refusing to give in so easily. "Don't be mad, Katie," he says quietly in my ear. Normally, I hate the name Katie, but when he says it, it sends a little shiver down my spine. When I don't say anything, though, he carries on with the whispering. "How can I make it up to you? I'll do a_nything…"_ his voice trails off suggestively.

"Stop doing that," I say crossly.

"Doing what?"

"_That." _I suppress another shiver. "Stop making me forget why I'm mad at you."

James laughs and shakes his head. "You're really cute when you're pissed off, do you know that?"

I try to keep it up, but it's pretty much a lost cause. I can't stay mad at him, not when he's looking at me like that and not when his fingertips are tracing random patterns on my hip and not when I have thoughts of _anything _floating around inside my head.

"Look. Everyone knows that Penny is just a jealous bitch. No one pays attention to a word she says."

Yeah, just every other girl in this school who hates me for no good reason. I look at James blankly and don't respond.

"I'm sorry. I should have told her where to go. Just don't be mad at me, okay? I don't like it when you're mad at me, it makes me sad…" He's so full of shit that he may as well just be a toilet. But the puppy dog eyes do me in as always, and I relent.

"Are you ready to go to dinner?"

The puppy dog look fades to a different one. "Um, I sort of scheduled practice during dinner…" He checks his watch. "And I'm already almost late."

I'm sure my feelings are evident on my face.

"I'm sorry," he says for what has to be the thousandth time today. "But the match is next weekend. You know how important it is…"

Ah, yes. Gryffindor versus Slytherin- the legendary rivalry. Both teams are undefeated. The winner will take the Cup. It's the only thing the entire bloody school can talk about. Not to mention, of course, the scouts that are supposed to be in attendance. This match means more than anything to James, and he's said more than once that his entire future is riding on it. I suppose it's the truth, considering the fact that he has absolutely no post-Hogwarts plans beyond play Quidditch professionally and make lots of money...

"Why don't you come to practice with me? And then afterwards, I'll get Rose to sneak us into the kitchens, and we can have dinner together." He looks at me hopefully, those big brown eyes as sweet and good-intentioned as possible. I'm absolutely powerless against them.

I end up taking him up on the offer, and we head down to the pitch together. He keeps his arm around my waist the whole way down and spends the trip telling me a stupid story about something Brampton did the other night. It's actually pretty funny, and I'm in a much better mood by the time we get down there. He kisses me quickly and then heads off to join his team in the changing room. I go up to the stands and get my homework out. Quidditch isn't exactly my favorite pastime, and it doesn't particularly interest me too much. Needless to say, I'm quite glad to have something else to keep my attention.

Gryffindor is good. And _James _is good. He always says that half his team hates him because he's so rough on them, but they should be grateful because he's turned them into something rather fantastic. They fly like a well-oiled machine, and they're nearly flawless at reading each other's reactions and predicting the next moves. Their Seeker is this little First Year girl called Chelsea- she's the one James replaced Al with back when their whole feud first started. I'm not too sure it was a bad move, though, because Chelsea is amazing. She's very small, so ti's easy for her to zoom in and out of the other players and dodge well-aimed Bludgers.

I get a bit distracted from my schoolwork watching them do drills. James, especially, is an amazing flyer. He flies like it's literally born into him, like it's in his genes, but, of course, it is. Every so often, he looks over at me and grins, and I won't pretend that it doesn't thrill me. I swear that one day that grin will be the absolute death of me. He's so sexy, and seeing him all dirty and covered in sweat only makes him even _more _appealing. I'm sure that when I get close enough to smell him, of course, that I'll have a different opinion, but from a distance, it sets off a million dirty thoughts, none of which are appropriate for a well-mannered Prefect, I'm sure. I suppose it's a good thing then that I'm certainly _not _the most well-mannered of the Prefects. I'm one of the few black sheep of that entire outlet, but I don't really mind too much.

I'm so caught up in my inappropriate thoughts that I almost don't see it- or rather, I almost don't _register _it…

A Bludger hurdles through the air at an alarming speed. Elliott hit it, and he must have caught it at exactly the right angle because I've never seen a Bludger travel anywhere close to that speed. It flies across nearly the entire distance of the pitch, and it hits James, _my James, _directly in the back of the head with a loud, sickening crack. Even if he hasn't been knocked immediately unconscious, which I'm positive he has, there's absolutely no hope whatsoever of him staying upright on his broomstick. Somebody screams, Mariska, I think, but I can't even make a single sound. I just watch helplessly as James's hands release his grip and he plummets, almost in slow motion, fifty feet to the rough, hard ground.

I finally snap back to reality, and the previous seconds' events hit me hard. I'm running down the stairs of the stands at nearly the same speed his team is soaring toward the ground. My books are forgotten, and I don't care about anything except getting down to him as quickly as possible. It seems to take forever, but when I finally make it down to the pitch, I run straight over to where he's lying motionlessly.

"Somebody go get help!" Mariska screams hysterically, jumping the last few feet to the ground as her own broom drops from underneath her. I look up to see that Joshua and Emily are already halfway back to the school, running faster than I would have ever thought possible.

I'm out of breath by the time I finally reach them, but I still manage to work up enough to scream, "Don't touch him!" at Elliott who immediately jerks his hand back. He's pale, and his skin almost looks ashen. His eyes are terrified, and he looks at me helplessly.

"I'm sorry…" he chokes out, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean to hit him that hard…" He looks like he's about to burst into tears actually, and I'm not surprised, considering the fact that James is one of his best friends. But I don't care about Elliott right

James isn't moving. I'm not even positive he's breathing. It's surreal, like I know I should be hysterical right now, but I'm not. I think I'm in shock. Mariska's freaking out, Elliott's about to have a breakdown, Chelsea looks terrified… But I'm just speechless.

Carefully, I drop down beside him, sitting on my knees and staring at him wordlessly. Everyone else sort of backs up, but I hardly notice. His body is twisted, his leg is definitely not supposed to be at that angle and his arm is resting underneath his back somehow. His eyes are closed, and his face is completely void of any and all color. A tiny trickle of blood is trailing from his nose into his half-open mouth, but none of that is what worries me. I try to ignore it, but the grass is turning an ugly dark crimson. I don't have to guess what's causing it, as his hair is turning an even darker shade of red. Blood is gushing from somewhere at the back of his head, faster than could ever be considered safe, I'm sure.

But I can't do _anything_.

So I just sit there, helpless and shocked, and wonder why the tears haven't come yet.

--

A/N: Okay, so this was a surprise to me because I hadn't actually planned on having any Kate chapters… I love her, though, and I just felt like writing her. Plus, I figured that she was as good a character as anyone to tell this part of the story!

Oh, and while I'm overly-pleased with all the reviews on the last chapter, I am a bit horrified that I had several, and I do mean several, reviews asking for Draco and Hermione! I am sorry to disappoint, but I can promise you that that will _never _happen!

With that being said, please review, and thanks in advance!!


	41. Al, Dazed and Confused

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 41

**AL, DAZED AND CONFUSED**

--

When I was seven, James convinced me to climb the only tree in our backyard, and then when I finally made it all the way up, he pushed me out of it. It took two very long days of painful bone healing before I could walk again, and I was fairly surprised that James lived through it considering how furious Mum got. He did, though, and, of course, he claimed it was an accident until he was blue in the face- not that anyone believed him, but he certainly stuck to his story. He privately snickered over it whenever Mum and Dad were out of earshot.

And I told him, "One day, I hope you fall down somewhere and get hurt, so I can laugh at _you."_

I remember that clearly, probably because the fast track of healing those snapped bones in my leg was one of the most painful experiences of my life. It _hurt. _Badly. And I remember wishing the pain on James instead and hoping that one day he'd get hurt and have to feel it, too.

Four months ago, I wished him dead. To his face. And I think I really meant it, too, at least in the moment. I told him that I wished he were dead, and I told him that I hated him. And I haven't said more than a total of ten words to him since- none of which have been nice.

I've certainly thought enough horrible things, though. The one time I wished him dead to his face is nothing compared to the countless times I've thought it. James and I have never been best mates by any means, but it's never been like this before. For months, every time I've looked at him, I've had to fight the urge to get him and pummel him. Every thought I've had about him has been hateful and mean, and I haven't even felt guilty once.

But I wish none of that had ever happened now.

If I could go back, I never would have told him I wished he were dead. I never would have even allowed myself to _think _it. Because it's something horrible to wish on someone, especially your own _brother. _And whether or not I felt like it was justified, I never _really _wished he would die- at least I don't think so…

Right now, he's lying unconscious in a bed at St. Mungo's with both of his legs in casts, one arm in a sling, a ton of bruises, and the biggest bandage ever wrapped tightly around his head. He hasn't moved one inch since they found him, hasn't opened his eyes or given even the slightest hint that he's aware of anything whatsoever that's going on around him.

And the Healers say they don't know if he ever will.

Not that they say he _won't _necessarily, more like they have absolutely no idea. He looks like absolute shit, and I wonder if it hurts. I don't know if you can really feel too much when you're unconscious. But maybe he's not really unconscious after all… maybe he is alert and can hear us and is aware of everything but just can't open his eyes… Then I'm very sure he _would _hurt.

I was at dinner when it happened.

It was a normal night, nothing out of the ordinary at all really. I was sitting with JD, and he was rambling on and on about his newfound lust of Elisabeth and how he was going to convince her to help him "study" later that night. I was half-listening, mostly because I'd heard it before and had no desire to hear it again. Still, though, I was at least _faking _interest because at least he was someone to talk to. Rose was down the table with Scorpius, and _they _certainly didn't seem open to any other visitors, as their heads were ducked close to each other and they seemed to be in very, very deep conversation. I was doing my best to ignore them and not drive myself mad wondering what the hell could possibly be so important and serious, so I tried to distract myself by throwing in little mmms and ahhhs every once in awhile to keep JD satisfied.

The entire Great Hall was packed, and it was so loud that you couldn't really hear yourself think or pay too much attention to anything, so I didn't really notice Neville walking towards me until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, and I pretty much knew right away that something wasn't right. He looked unusually solemn and serious.

"What's wrong?" I eyed him carefully, trying to figure it out.

"You need to come with me," he said quietly in a voice that was definitely too serious for him. "Do you know where Lily is?"

I glanced up and down the Gryffindor table looking for her, but she wasn't there. I should my head and just stared at him. "What's going on?"

He just sort of swung his head. "C'mon."

JD was watching, and when I looked at him, he just sort of widened his eyes. I was worried, of course, because I had no idea what had happened, and I racked my brain trying to remember if I'd done anything that would get me into trouble. I couldn't come up with anything... No one really paid much attention to me as I followed Neville down the aisle toward the exit, but I did catch Rose's eye. She raised her eyebrows at me curiously, and I just shrugged in response. Apparently she took that as a sign that something disastrous had happened because she immediately got up, abandoning whatever serious conversation she was previously having with Scorpius. She hurried to catch up with us and immediately asked what was wrong.

Neville finally gave us a straight answer as he held the door open and followed us into the entryway. "James was in an accident."

An accident? A million different possibilities immediately flew through my head, and I tried to imagine which of the very possible scenarios had actually taken place.

"What sort of accident?" Rose asked sharply. "Quidditch?"

Neville nodded, his face grim and solemn. I didn't see what the big damn deal was personally… I mean, people had Quidditch accidents every day- it sort of came with the territory.

He didn't say anything else, just led us up to the hospital wing in silence. I kept glancing at Rose who would shrug or shake her head in response. It was obvious that she was a bit more concerned about the potential tragedy of Quidditch than I was, but that was obviously because she knew absolutely nothing about it. People didn't get seriously injured playing Quidditch, and if they did, magic could heal their injuries nearly instantly. I didn't see the big deal at all.

By the time we reached the hospital wing, the entire team was waiting outside. They weren't talking or interacting with each other at all; they were all just sort of standing around looking sullen. I glanced at Rose to see what her reaction was, but she was staring in another direction at Kate who was leaning against the opposite wall with her eyes closed. She looked very much like she was on the verge of vomiting, and almost as if she sensed our gazes, her eyes opened and locked on us.

"What happened?" I repeated for what seemed like the millionth time. What was the big deal? This certainly wasn't the first time James had been hurt while playing Quidditch, I didn't understand why everyone was acting as though they were at a funeral.

No one answered, surprise, and Neville just pushed us towards the doors of the infirmary. I didn't want to, but I was starting to worry just a bit. First off, I was positive that I wasn't the first person (or the hundredth) person that James would want to see, considering the fact that we hadn't spoken in months. Not to mention the fact that everyone was acting so weird, making me nervous than I would have preferred.

I saw the reason for their weirdness, though, the second I stepped through the doors.

There were far more people than the school nurse huddled around the single-occupied bed. They looked up when we entered, and Madame Pomfrey turned around looking as though she were going to murder us and yell for us to stay out. She was one very scary old woman, and I imagined that we weren't the first students who had attempted to enter, though we were probably the first who were accompanied by a teacher. She turned her glare to Neville instead.

"No students," she said firmly, her voice left no room for any sort of argument, but Neville stood his ground.

"They'll wait here until their parents arrive." _His _voice left no room for argument, either.

"Neville, what's going on?" Rose asked, craning her neck to see around the crowd of people. It was impossible.

Neville looked quite conflicted, as though he wanted to tell us something but had been told not to. "Ginny's on her way, just go over there and have a seat until she gets here." He pushed us in the direction of some folding chairs lined against the far wall. "I'm going to go try to find Lily, just try to stay out of the way, okay?"

I nodded, but Rose narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. She went to the chairs with me, though, and we sat. Neville looked at us for a moment and then disappeared again.

"What the _hell?" _she asked, looking at me incredulously. I didn't say anything. I was trying not to be terrified, but there was something in the pit of my stomach that was making me worry. Something wasn't right, and that much was obvious.

Rose apparently was not going to be easily appeased, though, so she took it upon herself to stand up, climb on top of her chair, and look over the heads of the people crowded around James's bed.

"Rose Weasley, you get off that chair this instant, or I will put you out of here so quickly your head will spin!" Madame Pomfrey was glaring at her, but knowing Rose, I expected her to retort back with a smart-aleck remark. She didn't, though. She just stepped off the chair and sat back down, her face blank.

"What is it?" I asked, finally speaking as Rose sat down beside me.

"There's a lot of blood," she whispered quietly, and I could tell by the way she was speaking that it had to be bad.

A lot of blood.

Something was seriously wrong, that much was obvious from the moment Neville showed up in the Great Hall. The looks on all of the team's faces, not to mention Kate's… And now Rose confirmed it.

The doors flew open again, and everyone looked over to see who was bursting in now. It was my mother. She looked panicked and very hurried, and she immediately hurried over to the crowd of people, ignoring, or perhaps not even noticing, Rose and me and at all. One of the men who I didn't recognize tried to stop her, but he wasn't fast enough, and she pushed through the line of people blocking James.

"Oh, my god…"

She didn't need to say anything else. I could tell by the breathless tone of her voice that something was very seriously wrong, and I was sick of not knowing and not seeing for myself. I ended up back across the room before anyone even noticed, and I shoved my way through the crowd to Mum.

And then I saw for myself.

James was a mess of blood and bruises. They had him on his stomach, trying to fix some awful gaping wound at the back of his head where blood was still gushing freely despite the fact that about ten people were trying to get it closed. I realized that the extra people were emergency medical personnel from St. Mungo's, something I'd never seen before at Hogwarts. His legs looked broken, but no one had even touched those yet apparently; they were all focused on his head.

Mum looked as though she might faint, and for a second, I thought she would. She finally noticed me when I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at the bed where my brother was lying. Seeing me seemed to snap her out of her momentary shock, and she immediately grabbed my arm and turned me away, as though trying to block me from the scene I'd already seen. I opened my mouth to say something, though what, I've honestly no idea, but Mum cut me off.

"Get her out of here!" She was looking wildly at Neville who had just shown back up with Lily in tow. Lily looked confused and terrified, and I could tell she was about to freak out. But Rose was across the room and pushing her back out of the infirmary before she could say anything.

Neville watched them go and then came over to where we were standing. Mum shook her head in what had to be disbelief. "Neville, what happened?"

Neville looked just as confused, though, and he shook his own head in what had to be some sort of helplessness. "I don't know… He got hit in the head, and then he fell… They want to take him transport him to St. Mungo's when they get the bleeding controlled."

I wondered how far he must have fallen to get hurt _that _badly. Or how hard the Bludger must have hit…

Mum still looked close to passing out, and she posed her next question in a very small voice. "Have you talked to Harry?" If I wasn't so concerned with the fact that my brother might be dying, I might have noticed the tiny bit of sadness in her tone.

Neville shook his head again. "I tried, but I couldn't get him. I talked to Hermione, though, and she said she'd try to find him."

Mum nodded. "He's traveling. I think."

An awkward sort of silence hung in the air, and Neville, especially, seemed extremely uncomfortable. Finally, though, Mum snapped out of it, and she straightened up and put on her best business type voice.

"Al, why don't you go outside and find your sister? They should be taking him to St. Mungo's shortly."

I didn't argue. I went back out into the corridor, away from the awkwardness, away from Mum and Neville. And away from James. I didn't want to look at him anymore.

I still don't want to look at him.

I hate St. Mungo's, and I always have. It gives me a bad feeling, and I always get creeped out while I'm here. James is still lying unconscious in his bed, though, of course, now he's bandaged up and his broken bones are set into slings. There's no other sign that he's getting any better, though, and it's becoming increasingly obvious that no one knows when, or if, he's going to wake up.

Mum's spent the better part of the past three hours going from totally together and in charge to totally helpless. One minute, she's up barking orders, and the next, she's crumpled in a chair sobbing. Lily is hysterical, too, and I don't think she's stopped crying since we got here. A lot of the family has shown up, and they all take turns tending to Mum, though she hardly reacts to any of them. The only person she seemed to respond to was Grandmum who managed to get her to go upstairs for a coffee.

And Dad still isn't here.

Aunt Hermione finally tracked him down about an hour ago, and he was working in France. She told him what happened, and he said he'd be on his way immediately. It shouldn't take him too long, at least I hope not, just enough time to get through magical customs and whatnot. I hope he hurries, though, because I have an awful feeling that I'm supposed to be doing something and have no idea what.

Fred drops into the empty seat beside me and offers me half a sandwich he bought from the cafeteria. I take it, despite the fact that I'm not hungry in the least. It's getting pretty late, but I'm not tired, either. I'm not really sure that I'm even capable of experiencing common human feelings at the moment.

"You okay, mate?" he asks, looking at me sideways as I unconsciously nibble on the bread and meat.

I shrug, wondering why he suddenly feels it important to speak to me. He must feel sorry for me, I suppose, though I would have expected him to be more bitter toward me. He and James are as close as Rose and I are. Obviously he's been on James's side during our entire row, and I'm sure he thinks I'm a horrible person who is at fault for everything. Maybe he's right.

"James is going to be fine," he tells me, and I wonder how he can sound so confident. He really, truly sounds as though he believes the words coming out of his mouth. "There's no way that kid's going to miss the Slytherin match."

I try to smile, but it's hard. That _would _be the easiest way to make him snap out of his coma- remind him of the upcoming match. Maybe someone should tell the Healers that.

"I thought his girl would have come," he goes on, apparently not caring that I've so far been unresponsive. I do answer that, though.

"They wouldn't let her. She tried, but they made her stay at school."

Fred nods. "She must be really worried."

"She saw it happen."

We just sit there after that, each nibbling on halves of a stale sandwich, lost in our own thoughts.

"Daddy!"

I look up when Lily very nearly screeches and jumps off her chair to run across the waiting room to where Dad has just entered. She throws herself at him, and he hugs her while immediately asking Granddad a million questions at once. I don't pay attention to what's being said, but I'm just so glad that he finally got here. He seems beyond confused, and his face is set to immense worry. Everyone else is looking on silently, listening, I suppose.

A few moments later, though, Mum and Grandmum show back up. They both stop when they see that Dad's here, and I wonder if everyone else in the room feels the immediate tension that I do. Mum and Dad lock eyes on each other, and then, as if they can read each other's minds, they both silently slip out into the hallway together.

No one says anything, and the waiting room is heavy with silence for several minutes as we all just sort of stare at each other. I glance over at Lily who meets my eyes wearily. She looks tired and upset, and I don't blame her at all. I think she needs to go to bed, but I don't know if Mum and Dad want her to stay here or go back to Hogwarts. Without acknowledging anyone, I get up to follow my parents out into the hallway to see if they want me to take Lily back to school.

"Al…" It's Grandmum, and she puts a hand on my shoulder to halt me. I don't really pay attention, though, and I keep right on going, pushing open the waiting room doors and slipping out into the corridor. I stop, though, with my hand still holding the door open behind me. Mum and Dad are a lot further down the hall, and neither of them so much as even looks up when I step out.

Mum is crying again, heavily this time, and she's got both of her hands clamped around Dad's neck as she keeps her face buried into his chest. He's leaning against the wall and has his arms tightly around her waist, his head ducked and whispering something in her ear as he raises one hand and gently smoothes a hand through her hair.

I stand there, completely still and silent, staring at them. I'm well-aware that I'm intruding on a private moment, and I know without having to ask that this isn't something for me, that it's something very serious and intimate that's just between them. But still. It's been months since I've seen them share any sort of affection whatsoever. And seeing it now… scares me.

I forget what I was coming out to ask in the first place, and I finally turn around and go back into the waiting room. I sit on the far side of the room, all by myself. It's ridiculous. I feel like I'm in some alternative universe or something, like none of this can be real. I don't understand how it _can _be.

James isn't supposed to be hurt. James is _James _for god's sake. Nothing bad ever happens to him, he has everything and is good at everything. This sort of thing isn't supposed to happen to him. And why have I been such a prat for the past year? What if he _isn't _okay? What if I don't ever get to fix anything?

What if my family really _does _fall apart?

I don't even realize I'm crying until I taste the tears on my lips.

--

A/N: I'm glad that you guys liked the Kate POV- I was a little worried about throwing it in there, but I liked the way it turned out. And I'm glad most people seem happy that this isn't going to turn into Draco/Hermione because while Draco may be my very favorite character, he's got absolutely no place in my very favorite couple!

Thank you for all the reviews!!


	42. James, Oblivion

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 42

**JAMES, OBLIVION**

--

Pain.

That's the only thing I can register at all. Pain. Everywhere. In my legs and my arms and my chest and my back. And in my head. _Especially _in my head. My head feels as though someone is pounding it into a concrete floor, over and over and over.

For a moment, I wonder if I'm dead. I seem to be waking up out of nothingness, and I have absolutely no idea where I am or how I got here. I can't see anything, but I can tell that I'm not in my usual bed. If I was in my regular bed, the pillow would be softer, my blanket would be warmer, and Kate would most likely be there. And she's definitely not. The pillow's hard, I'm freezing, and no, there is no beautiful girl curled up beside me.

So maybe I'm dead, and this is hell.

It hits me then that I really _can't _see anything. Maybe blindness and pain are just two parts of hell. I wasn't even aware that I _believed _in hell, though, until just this moment… I want to look around and see where I am and what I'm doing here, but I can't. I can't see anything but black. And the pain resonating from every inch of my body gives me little hope of focusing on anything else.

So the next question, of course- how did I die?

I rack my brain trying to remember, but _fuck, _even _thinking _hurts… I almost laugh thinking about the comeback Rose would have for that if she could hear it, but, of course, I don't because if I can't even see anything, I'm pretty positive I can't laugh or speak, either. How did this happen? I remember being in class and getting bitched at by Flitwick… I remember having a tiny argument with Kate- or rather _her _having a tiny argument with _me… _I remember going to Quidditch practice… Quidditch. Of course. That's obviously what happened. I must have fallen off my broom.

But I've fallen off my broom plenty of times before, and up until now, I've never died before…

Maybe I'm _not_ dead. Maybe I'm just hurt really badly and passed out. Yes, that's got to be it. That explains the weird bed, I must be in the hospital wing. And yeah, I'm pretty sure those are casts on my legs… But my head hurts so fucking _bad. _God. It's a relief to realize I'm not blind, though- at least not that I'm aware of. I just can't get my eyes open because I'm obviously unconscious. That's better than dead at least.

"Neville's sending Al and Lily back over this afternoon."

I easily recognize the voice. It's Mum, and her statement is followed by the clicking of a door, so I suppose she must just be coming in. I recognize the voice that answers her, too, and I'll admit to being a bit shocked by it.

"They can't stay past dinner tonight. They need to get back on a normal sleep schedule."

Dad's voice comes from my left, which is the opposite direction of the way Mum's voice and the clicking of the door came. That must mean that he was already here, waiting for me to wake up. Their voices don't sound hostile or irritated or mean or hateful or any of the other adjectives I could use to describe the way they've been speaking to each other for the last several months. I wonder what's going on…

"Any change?" Mum asks, and I can tell by the direction of her voice that she's crossing the room and moving over to where Dad is.

"No, nothing."

"Here. Black coffee and a blueberry muffin." She brought him his favorite breakfast. I wonder if it's poisoned.

"Thanks. Did you eat anything?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Gin… You need to eat something." Gin. He doesn't call her Gin when he's mad at her. And he's worrying about her lack of eating, too… "Here, eat half of this."

She sighs but relents. "Fine." I guess the muffin isn't poisoned.

This is weird. They're almost being… normal. I decide to try and open my eyes, but it's absolutely impossible. It hurts _way _too bad… _Owww…_

"Did you hear that?" Mum's voice sounds immediately alert and serious. I feel her hovering over me, despite the fact that I can't see her.

"Did he say something?" Dad's voice is right beside her. They're both standing now. It's weird how I can tell all of this just by hearing them, it's sort of cool in a way.

Still, though, I'm quite surprised by the fact that I've apparently said something, or at least made some sort of noise. I didn't mean to, and I wonder exactly what it was.

"Jamie?" Mum's voice is lower, almost a whisper. She sounds so worried that I almost can't be pissed off that she called me Jamie. I feel her fingertips on my face, and she runs them down the bridge of my nose and then across one of my cheeks, under my eye. "James, love, can you hear me?"

I've never heard her like that before, not with me anyway. She isn't usually that gentle and coercing, or at least she hasn't been since I was very small. It's sort of nice, and I feel bad that she's worrying like that. I want to answer her, but my throat is too dry, and I can't figure out how to make my lips move.

"He said something," Dad's voice sounds nearly the same as Mum's- worried and whispery, but with a tiny bit of hope.

Still, though, what the fuck am I saying? They must be hearing _something…_

"James…" Mum sounds too scared to get her hopes up, but it's obvious that she's failing.

I honestly feel really bad that she's worrying about me, so I fight against every pinch of pain (and holy _shit, _it's a lot), and I force my mouth to move.

"Wha-pen?"

That's all I can get out, and even that is a major accomplishment. My head shrieks in response, and I have a feeling I'd scream out in pain if I could make my mouth manage it.

"He's asking what happened," Dad explains, his voice sounds relieved. I'm impressed that he understood my broken question, but he's right- that's exactly what I'm asking. So score one for Dad.

Mum's fingers are still on my cheek, and she reaches up to run them down my hairline. I know she's trying to be gentle, but even the slightest touch hurts like hell, and I wince internally, though I'm quite positive that reaction doesn't show on my face because she doesn't stop.

"Maybe we should go get the Healers," Dad suggests, but I can barely hear him because his voice is so quiet, and when Mum answers, hers is just as quiet.

"Not yet. Just a few more minutes, we can just be alone with him…"

And then I feel a second hand on me, a heavier hand, but it's not tracing any cheeks or hairlines. It closes around Mum's hand slowly and pulls it away. Even unconscious, I can feel the change in the air. I don't know whether to be grossed out, relieved, or terrified. I'm just thankful for my momentary blindness.

I don't hear anything for a few seconds, just slightly heightened breathing. And then I hear something that would, under normal circumstances, probably make me puke.

"I miss you, Gin…" It's so quiet I can barely hear it, but not quite quiet _enough._

"You do?"

Somebody audibly swallows (maybe it's me, choking down the vomit). "Every day…"

Oh, gross! I wince internally again, but apparently I do it a little too roughly because something triggers at the back of my head. And the worst pain I've ever felt in my entire _life _suddenly shoots through my head and seems to reach all the way to my toes.

_Fuck!_

My parents are staring at me in shock, and it takes them both a second to snap out of whatever they were previously lost in. They're holding hands, but they drop them when they both spin around to rush back to me. Mum looks like shit, like she's either been crying for hours or hasn't slept for days or maybe both.

Wait.

I guess my eyes must be open if I can actually _see _them… That must mean I'm awake. Which must mean that… Where the hell _am _I?

"Oh, fu… _shiiiit!" _The pain, god, it _hurts._

"Oh, James…" Mum looks like she wants to burst into tears again. "Go get the Healer!" she says quickly to Dad without turning away from me. He hurries out, and Mum bends over me, checking for something, I've no idea. "Are you okay?" she asks breathlessly.

"It fucking _hurts!" _I say, irritated, wishing I could go back to the blindness because with my eyes open, the pain seems to be intensified tenfold. "What the hell happened?" My throat is dry, and I can tell my words sound scratchy.

"You got hurt during Quidditch practice. A Bludger hit you in the head, and then you fell… Oh, god, I was so scared…"

My head is killing me, and I move my hand up to test it out, only to realize that my arm is hung up in a bloody sling. Annoyed, I yank at it, but Mum stops me, lifting my other arm for me instead. It _isn't _bound by a sling, so I raise my hand slowly and reach up to test the wound. All I feel is a bandage, though, a very _thick _bandage that's apparently wrapped around my entire head. It must be pretty bad.

"Who hit me?" I ask, frowning as I try to remember it.

Mum smiles at me sort of sadly. "Elliott. It was an accident."

Elliott. Hah. "That fucking wanker." Just wait until I see that prat.

"James!" I look at her, wondering if she's _seriously _about to get on me about language when I'm lying here half-dead. She doesn't. She just shakes her head and lets out a breath that she's apparently been holding for awhile.

"Where am I anyway?" I ask, still annoyed with life in general.

"St. Mungo's. They had to bring you here."

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days," she says quietly, and I get the feeling that with three days passed, people were starting to give up.

"God, where's Dad? I need something," I twist uncomfortably, only to be met once again by the shattering pain in my head. "_Shit!" _I squeeze my eyes shut against it, but it doesn't help.

"Dad's right here," Mum says, and I hear footsteps reentering the room. I open my eyes and see her reaching out to pull him over.

"What do you need, mate?" he asks, and I'm surprised to see that even _he _looks terrified and relieved all at the same time.

"Tell them to give me some fucking drugs or something," I snap, squeezing my eyes shut again. "I can't breathe, it hurts so bad…"

It's the truth, too. Trying to breathe makes my chest hurt, which in turn triggers my head and fucking _kills _me!

Dad disappears for maybe thirty seconds again, and this time when he returns, he's got several people with him. See, there _are _some upsides to being a Potter when half the world is scared of your dad and only asks, "How high?" when he says, "Jump." One lady, whose name badge reads Myrna, tilts my head back and pours a potion down my throat that sort of tastes like old socks. I fight the immediate reaction to gag, and I'm thankful a second later when it _instantly _starts working. A blissful numbness takes over my body, and I feel immediately calmer and in a much better mood. In fact, I feel as though I've just smoked something _really _good. Actually, I wish I _had _something really good _to _smoke. Where the hell _is _Elliott anyway?

The next couple of hours pass quickly, and I don't pay much attention to anything or anyone. The Healers do a million different checkups on me, and there's one in particular that I'm sure should embarrass me and hurt my pride, but I can't even care. Everything seems really calm and peaceful, and I take it all in stride, thinking that maybe this isn't all that bad after all. People are waiting on me hand and foot, bringing me food and whatever else I need or want. It's sort of awesome actually. It keeps getting better and better, too, because they keep shoving that potion down my throat so often that I even stop noticing the nasty taste.

Mum and Dad both fuss over me and don't argue at all with each other. In fact, they're quite pleasant even if it is a bit awkward. I'm pretty much oblivious to all of it, though, and I find myself wondering if I can get a sample of the potion and take it back to school to try and figure out the ingredients. It's seriously the best thing in the entire universe. I'm sure Rose could figure it out, she's good at shit like that. I'd have to catch her on a day when she isn't hating me, though, and sometimes that's difficult. She might be easier to convince if I let her have a taste of it. After all, she may be annoyingly smart, but she's definitely far from perfect and has more than a few bad girl tendencies. If we started brewing this shit at school, we'd make a fortune off it.

My thoughts are interrupted when a small knock sounds at my door. Dad answers it, and Kate steps carefully into the room. Thank _god. _As much as I like being fussed over, I'm more than a bit pleased to finally see someone under the age of thirty-five. Especially since that someone is Kate, and damn, she looks _hot. _

She looks scared and anxious, and she shoots me a quick little nervous smile before looking back at my parents. "Hi… I'm Kate…" She swallows and tries to smile at them, and I have the feeling that she's terrified of them for some reason. "Professor Longbottom said I could come during lunch… if it's alright with you, of course."

"Of course," Mum says sweetly. She smiles at me and says, "Just call if you need anything, okay? We'll just be down the hall."

I nod, wishing they'd hurry up and get out and leave me all alone with Kate. Kate… who looks so cute all flustered and nervous. Kate. Yes, Kate. They leave finally, shutting the door behind them, and Kate stands across the room looking at me all.

"Katie…" I say, grinning at her, the latest dose of the potion still fresh and making everything blissful.

She comes over to my bed and stands there studying me. Her face still looks worried, and she's biting down on her lower lip. I want her to come close so that _I _can bite down that lip.

"How are you feeling?" she asks quietly.

"I feel perfect," I tell her honestly.

"You don't hurt?"

"I can't feel anything," I tell her seriously. "You could slap me across the face, and I probably wouldn't feel it."

"Can I test that theory?" She raises her eyebrows, and I smirk at her.

"Do you want to?"

She just shakes her head and bends lower over me. "No…" Then she kisses me, very gently at first, and I can tell that she's worried about hurting me. It doesn't hurt, though, not at all, and I kiss her back, pissed off at the fact that I only have one good arm to work with. Still, I manage to grab the back of her head and pull her closer, which sort of causes her to lose her balance and fall forward. She catches herself and balances her body over mine with hands resting on each side of my shoulders.

"I don't want to hurt you," she says, drawing back just a tiny bit to look at me. I use my good hand to pull her back down.

"It doesn't hurt," I promise. Her hair is so soft, and her mouth tastes fabulous- just like chocolate and cinnamon mixed together. Damn, mixing Kate with this potion is what ecstasy has _got _to feel like.

"Your parents are right outside," she says, a bit breathlessly as I use the good hand to tilt her face up and kiss the underside of her jaw.

"So?" The skin of her neck tastes as good as her mouth, but she finally pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hand away from her face and holding it in her lap instead.

"James, are you sure you're okay?"

"I _swear _I feel _fabulous." _I smile at her, making sure to flash all of my teeth because I know how susceptible she is to it. "And now you're here, and it's perfect."

"James…"

"Shhh." I release my hand from her grip and hold a finger up to her lips. "You're so pretty."

Kate snorts. "You are fucked out of your head, aren't you?"

"A bit, yeah." I laugh, and she rolls her eyes. "This shit is amazing."

"What is it?" She picks up the empty vial on the bedside table and examines it.

"I dunno, but it's _fantastic. _When we go back to school," I pause, and then point a finger toward my chest, "when _I _go back to school, I'll smuggle some in. Then we can get my cousin to dissect it and start brewing it, and we'll be so fucking rich."

"So now you want to be a drug dealer?" She raises her eyebrows at me, and I shrug happily.

"Where's Elliott, by the way?"

Kate's face drops, and she looks suddenly serious. "Probably somewhere contemplating suicide."

"Trying to upstage me, no doubt."

She frowns at me. "People were really worried. And Elliott feels really bad… I mean, people thought you were going to _die."_

I just roll my eyes. "You knew I wasn't going to pussy out that easy."

Kate doesn't say anything, just looks down at her lap.

"Were _you _worried?" I ask carefully, studying her face to see her reaction.

"I was scared," she says quietly.

"Don't be scared," I tell her, drowsiness hitting me suddenly. "I'm still alive, now we can go get married."

She tenses, her whole body going stiff, and she stares at me wide-eyed. "James." Her tone is sharp, and I just smile, amused at her reaction.

"What? You wouldn't marry me?"

"Stop it."

I grab her hand, fighting my own eyelids. "What if I had a ring?" I ask groggily. "And I put it right here?" I slide an imaginary ring down her fourth finger and look dazedly to gauge her reaction.

She looks positively terrified.

I can't take it anymore, and I crack up. "You know I'm high as fuck right now, don't you?"

Kate jerks her hand away. "Yes," she says sharply. "Now, stop."

"I don't have a ring."

"Good."

I can't help but smile again, highly enjoying this. "Not today anyway… soon."

"Go to sleep, James." She gets up, and my eyes drop shut of their own accord. "I've got to go back to school."

I can't really think straight, and I'm fighting sleep with every ounce of will that I have. Blindly, I reach out a hand to her. "Wait."

"Hmm?" she asks quietly, taking my hand and waiting for my answer.

I don't really remember what I was going to ask, so I just smile lightly and say, "Kiss me."

Even with my eyes shut, I can feel her resolve crumble, and she leans down to kiss me very gently, just barely brushing her lips against mine. It still feels fantastic.

"Kate?" I mumble when she pulls away to stand back up. She doesn't say anything, and I just mumble right on, my eyes now far past the point of opening. "I love you…"

I hear her intake of breath, but that's the last thing I register. I'm asleep before she even has a chance to respond.

And the dreams are the best I've ever had.

--

A/N: Ah, quick update! And you guys totally knew I wasn't going to kill him, I love him!


	43. Rose, Some Lessons

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 43

**ROSE, SOME LESSONS ARE BETTER LEFT UNLEARNED**

--

Scorpius is upset.

He's been upset for days now, and every time I try to get him out of his mood, he just snaps at me and then ends up apologizing twenty seconds later. _Always. _I don't know why he's a chronic apologizer, maybe I should ask my shrink to see if it stems from some deep-rooted childhood psychological issue. I'm beginning to realize that Scorpius may actually have quite a few of those…

The entire reason he's upset is because his grandfather wrote him a letter, basically disowning him and telling him what a horrible disappointment he is. His grandfather said that he was even "dirtier" than me because at least I had an "excuse," seeing as how I'd been "born into filth." But Scorpius, well, Scorpius was willingly submitting himself to such filth. I don't really suppose it was my place, but after Scorpius read the letter at breakfast and looked positively devastated, I snatched it from him and read it before he could stop me. It certainly had a rather… _rich _variety of adjectives, most of which were reserved for me. It was difficult to tell which he considered to be my greater sin- having a Muggle-born mother or being a Weasley. Both seemed to be crimes condemnable by death in his book. I was shocked, to say the least, mostly because I couldn't imagine any of my grandparents ever being as cruel to me as he was to Scorpius. And I certainly couldn't imagine them talking about _anyone _the way he talked about me- not even their worst enemy, much less a teenaged _stranger. _

When I was done, I just sort of sat there, trying to process all of it. When I didn't immediately respond, Scorpius instantly launched in a whirlwind of apologies. Of course.

"What are _you _sorry for?" I snapped, though my voice was much harsher than I intended. "_You _didn't write it."

When I saw the look on Scorpius's face, I felt bad and shut up. I didn't know what else to say anyway, so we just sort of sat there awkwardly for awhile and then went off in separate directions for class. And I haven't mentioned it since. At least not to him. I couldn't get it out of my head, though, and even though I tried to not think about it, I sort of became obsessed with it. And for two days, things were really weird between Scorpius and me. We tried to pretend like the letter didn't exist, but obviously we both knew it did. So then I decided to do something I never in a million years dreamt I would do.

I wrote to my mum for boy advice.

I figured it couldn't hurt, considering the fact that she's the only person in my entire family who isn't completely against Scorpius and me. Not that she _adores _the idea or anything, but she isn't ready to have me murdered over it, either. She's more level-headed than the other people in my family who were actually _born _with the Weasley hot-tempered mentality. She is more logical, and she looks at things with a much clearer view than, say, my dad does. So even though she may be one-hundred percent ridiculous and annoying most of the time, there _are _some good things about her.

So I wrote to her and detailed everything about the letter- from the things Lucius Malfoy said about me, to the things he said about _her _and to the rest of the family. I also went into plenty of detail about the way that he spoke to Scorpius and how evil and vindictive it was. I also told her how weird it was making things and asked her what she thought I should do. Not to mention, of course, that she'd already warned me about Lucius Malfoy and exactly how evil he really was. I wasn't expecting such an immediate response, considering the fact that she is three weeks away from the election _and _the fact that James is still in the hospital, which really is taking up an awful lot of her time as well. But I had a reply the very next morning.

To say I was surprised by it would be an understatement…

_Rose,_

_First of all, I want to say how happy I am that you decided to share this with me. I know that this is probably something you would have preferred handling on your own, and that's perfectly understandable. However, I want you to feel comfortable in knowing that you can come to me for these sorts of things whenever you need help. I promise to keep your confidence, and I'm not going to judge you or tell you how to live your life. Trust me, as much as I would love to tell you exactly what to do and when to do it, I would much rather see you make your own choices and decisions. _

_I'm just thankful that you live in a world where it's even possible for you to know Scorpius Malfoy in the first place. If things had turned out differently, that might not even be a possibility. I know that your father and I haven't been the most forthcoming about our childhood, but we made the decision a long time ago to try and shield you from the bad parts as best as possible. However, I've recently come to realize that by keeping these things from you, we may have inadvertently led you to believe things that aren't true. You are older now, though, and more mature, and I am confident that you will be able to handle hearing the truth. _

_By the time I was eighteen, I wasn't even allowed to go to school. I didn't plan on it anyway, as there were more important things to deal with. Harry was leaving, and your father and I would have followed him anywhere at that point. But even if I'd wanted to go to school for my Seventh Year, I wouldn't have been able to. There was a law enacted that year that forbade all Muggle-borns from attending Hogwarts, and it required all Muggle-borns to register themselves with the Ministry of Magic. If they could not prove that they had close Wizarding relatives, they were assumed guilty of "stealing" their powers and locked away in Azkaban. Now, you and I both know that the idea of "stealing" magical powers is ludicrous, but the Ministry was more than a bit corrupt at that time. When I was that age, I couldn't imagine a worse future than working for the Ministry, and then the Minister was assassinated and things became even worse. I did not register myself, so by running away with Harry and your dad, I was essentially breaking the law and a fugitive. Some recently-written articles have mentioned this but, of course, failed to relate the entire story._

_One evening, we were spotted by a group of Snatchers- they were employed by the Ministry to capture fugitive Muggle-borns and "blood traitors." I managed to halfway disguise Harry just in time, but they recognized me, and they took all three of us to the Malfoys'. Lucius and his wife were there, her sister was there, and Draco was there. Now, I think it's important that you understand exactly what type of relationship we shared with Scorpius's father. It was much more than a simple schoolyard rivalry, as there was a much more significant basis to the mutual dislike. Draco Malfoy was the most disgusting child I have ever encountered in my entire life, and I say that with one-hundred percent honesty. He was arrogant and hateful and proud to a point. Of course, he was raised to believe that he was in the right to be all of these things because he was better than everyone else. Not only was he of the purest blood, but he was also a member of one of the most powerful Wizarding families in the world at that time. He hated us for what I suppose he believed were good reasons. It's hard for me to say which one he hated the most because I honestly don't know. He hated Harry, of course, for obvious reasons, and he hated me because my parents were Muggles. He hated your father because the Weasleys and the Malfoys had very different ideas about being Pureblood Wizards, and all of their children were raised with the same ideas. I wish I could say that the hatred was one-sided and that we took the high road and ignored him, but that would just be a flat-out lie because, unfortunately, we were just as much to blame as he was. I cannot tell you the number of arguments, name-calling, hexing, and fighting that went on between us while we were at Hogwarts, and though I'm not proud of it, I myself even hit Draco Malfoy in the face when I was a Third Year, I believe… So, no. We did not ignore him; we gave as good as we got, and I'm not proud of it._

_The day we were taken to his house, though, was probably the first glimpse of humanity I ever saw in Draco. The year before, his father was thrown into prison for being a Death Eater, and Voldemort himself ordered Draco to kill Professor Dumbledore in some sort of saving face effort, though it was obvious that there were more threats than anything else attached to the order. I think that perhaps that was a turning point in his life because he finally realized that it wasn't game. People were dying, and some of those people were on "his" side. He didn't kill Dumbledore, and I don't think he would have ever been able to, either, but I think it was enough to scare him into reality. When we were taken to Malfoy Manor, his mother asked him to identify us, and while he didn't give us any certain outs, he didn't give them a straight answer, either. A year earlier, he would have been foaming at the mouth to turn us over, but something had changed, and that much was obvious. I won't go into the details of the rest of that day because they aren't memories that I like to recall. In fact, if I could choose one day out of my entire life to forget, it would be that one. I was tortured to the point of not being able to breathe, and we lost a very good friend that day as well- a House Elf named Dobby who was one of the greatest heroes I ever knew. The things that happened that day are not known to anyone besides a very few people, and it's important to me that it stays that way. While they were the most physically and emotionally painful moments of my life, I was at least able to see another side to an old enemy, and I haven't forgotten it to this day._

_Lucius Malfoy, though, was responsible for anything and everything that Draco was as a child. He encouraged it and taught blood prejudice as a fact. To him, blood is the most important aspect of any given person. Pure Wizarding blood immediately gives the holder a higher rank in his book, unless, of course, the Pureblood happens to be a "blood traitor." In that case, they are just as disgusting and unappealing as a Muggle or a Muggleborn. He is probably mortified that his own grandson is going against his teachings so boldly and so drastically. To him, Scorpius is a "blood traitor," simply by acknowledging the fact that you are of equal worth to him. Lucius cannot and will not stand for that. If he has not written Scorpius out of his will already, it is only a matter of time before he does. I just want you to be prepared for that because he isn't going to make it easy for you. Your father will eventually grow up and get over it, Draco will eventually grow up and get over it… Lucius will not._

_Rose, I'm not exaggerating when I say that he is an evil person. The things he has done are inexcusable and horrible. I spent my teenage years watching people I loved get hurt and even die. It was a terrifying world to be in, and so much of it was due to Lucius Malfoy and the people like him. They thrive on hate and prejudice, and they think nothing whatsoever of hurting innocent people. Ginny nearly died when she was eleven years old because Lucius Malfoy gave her a diary that allowed her to be possessed by Voldemort. She was a little girl, and he thought absolutely nothing of allowing her to be killed. To him, she was nothing but the filthy daughter of the biggest blood traitors in the Wizarding World. And that's exactly how he will always view the Weasleys. You, I'm afraid, are even more disgusting in his eyes because you're also my daughter, and I'm everything he hates about Muggle-borns and more. You cannot change his opinion, and I don't even want you to try. You'll accomplish nothing except getting hurt. You simply have to do your best to ignore him and hope that Scorpius is strong enough to ignore him as well. _

_I love you more than anything in the entire world, and I would give anything to be able to protect you from everything bad in the world. And for a long time, I tried. I thought that by not telling you the horrible things we went through as teenagers that I could protect you from ever having to experience anything similar. I was wrong, though, because no matter how hard I try, there will always be prejudice in this world, and you will have to learn to face it. You are strong and brilliant, though, and seeing you even have the opportunity to stand up for yourself makes everything we went through and witnessed worth it. It proves that our friends and family did not die in vain. At least you have the right to make these choices- that's what matters most to me._

_I should go now, as this letter is quite long, and your brother is beginning to get restless. I suppose I should go feed him before he pesters me to death! I am here, though, if you have any other questions or if there's anything else that you want to know. I want us to have an honest relationship, and I hope you trust me enough to come to me again. Keep your mind focused on what is important, and the rest will sort itself out._

_  
I love you,_

_Mum_

_PS- I know you'll want to share this with Al, but please don't tell Hugo and Lily all of this. They are still young, and I don't want them involved in any of it. You understand._

Anyone who ever accused my mum of being overly-thorough was not lying. Her letter seemed to go on forever, but the more I read, the more enthralled I became. So much of what was said in it were exactly the things that we'd all spent years complaining about being kept out of. We've always heard the excuses that they were doing it to "protect" us and that sort of thing, but it always felt like bullshit. I understand a little better now, and I kind of think that part of the reason everyone was so insistent about keeping quiet on it had to do with the fact that apparently they've got a lot of painful memories locked up about it.

Reading Mum's letter, though, made me realize just how serious she was being when she told me earlier that Scorpius's grandfather would never allow this to happen. It also made me realize that she wasn't exaggerating when she said that he was evil. I never knew half the things she wrote about in the letter. I never knew she was tortured at the Malfoys' house, I never knew Aunt Ginny was _possessed _by fucking _Voldemort. _I never even knew Muggle-borns were banned from Hogwarts or locked up in Azkaban just for having magical powers. I knew they were required to register with the Ministry at some point, but I had no idea that it went so far. The vast majority of what I know about the war comes from the History of Magic book, which pretty much praise everything Harry Potter did and gloss over all the unpleasant details.

But if everything Mum says is true, then how _is _it possible that Scorpius was raised in that family and doesn't believe the same things? I'm sure he's been taught to look down upon non-Purebloods his entire life, so how is it possible that he really doesn't believe those things? It makes me sick. And I don't _want _to feel sick about anything that has to do with Scorpius at all because I like him so much, and besides Al, he's the only real friend I've got anymore. He's more than a friend, too, which only makes things more difficult. I've never had a boyfriend before who would do absolutely anything for me. I've never had a boyfriend who I _trusted _as much as I trust Scorpius. In fact, I've never had _anyone _I trust as much as him- besides Al, of course, who will be the exception to nearly every rule because he's been the most important person in my life since pretty much the day I was born.

I let Al read the letter Mum wrote, and he was just as surprised as I was. His parents never told him anymore than mine told me. He asked what I was going to do, and I didn't even have to ask him to clarify to know what he meant. He was talking about Scorpius. He doesn't like Scorpius, and he doesn't make much of a secret of it. I really have no idea why they can't get along, and it's not even as if they argue or go out of their way to be rude to each other. They just have a sort of mutual distaste, but they both try to keep it to a minimum, for my sake I assume (or hope).

I don't know what to do about Scorpius. I don't think it's my place to tell him about his family, but it does make me wonder how much he knows. He told me that he didn't know his dad was a Death Eater until he started Hogwarts- does he know that his grandfather tried to have my aunt killed or that my mum was nearly tortured to death at his grandparents' home? Surely he knows that Lucius Malfoy is prejudice and cruel (or at least he should, considering the letter he himself received…), but I wonder if he knows the full extent of it. And I wonder what he would do if he found out…

We haven't talked about it. I haven't mentioned my mum's letter, and we haven't talked about his grandfather's. We're both much more comfortable pretending that they don't exist. When we're at school, at least, we're away from our families (save my cousins, of course), so we can pretend that surnames and family rivalries don't exist. We can pretend that our parents _didn't _fight on opposite sides of a war or that they even know each other at all.

Of course, I sort of think I'd maybe rather face Lucius Malfoy than face half the people at school who now give me shit straight to my face.

I don't understand it. I don't know why people are so damn interested in what I'm doing in my life. I like Scorpius, and I don't particularly give a shit who knows it at this point (granted _everyone _knows it, but still). It doesn't really make me feel spectacular, though, when I have to listen to people say rude things about him and, now by proxy, me. I will admit that he isn't the most popular person in our school, but that's just because he's shy and has no desire to make a big deal out of himself. He's quiet, which I guess makes people think he's weird (okay, I admit, it made _me _think that), but he's nice and really funny and not weird at all once you get to know him. Plus, he's _really _cute, which seems to be the only positive thing anyone can say about him.

And, of course, we get a ton of shit because everyone in the world saw us making out on the front page of the newspaper.

It's nice, though, not to have to hide anymore, not to have to worry about people finding out. We can sit together in class and at lunch, and it actually feels like a real relationship now. Of course, that also complicates things on its own level as well. Because now I can actually call him my boyfriend, and I think that intimidates him just a bit. He's never had any other girlfriends besides me, and I don't think he really knows how to act. Still, though. I think we're doing okay.

When I catch up with him at dinner, he's sweaty and more than a bit dirty. He looks like he's just had his arse kicked on the Quidditch pitch, and I can tell by the dingy mood he's in that I'm probably correct.

"That's disgusting, d'you know that?" I ask, nodding at his muddy clothes as he drops into the seat across from me.

"I think Amers is trying to kill us out there," he says grumpily. "I'm starving."

He starts filling his plate with food, and I watch him, thinking about the upcoming match and how important everyone is making it out to be. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about sitting over here," I say, glancing down the table at my fellow Gryffindors. "I'm pretty sure that's a sin on both ends."

Scorpius doesn't say anything. He just keeps his eyes lowered and eats.

"James is supposed to be back tomorrow. That'll give him two days to attempt killing the Gryffindor team."

Scorpius _does_ respond to that. He looks up at me oddly. "He isn't going to be playing."

"What?" I shake my head at him, completely confused. "Who said that?"

"Everyone said it." He looks confused, too. "They've already got a reserve in. You didn't know that?"

"No!" I can't believe what I'm hearing. "James doesn't know that!"

Scorpius frowns. "Well, it's true…"

"But his legs and his arm, they're perfectly healed now…. It's just his head, it's still a bit…"

"Rose," he looks at me seriously, "they're not going to allow him to play. St. Mungo's said he can't."

"But nobody's told James that," I protest, looking down the table for Al to see if he's aware of this new bit of information. I don't know how I could've possibly missed it.

"Well, his parents know," Scorpius answers back, and I have a feeling this story has been hashed and rehashed in the Slytherin changing room more than a few times. "His dad's the one who told Longbottom to get a replacement."

I'm shocked, literally shocked. I actually think my mouth hangs open a bit. "James is going to shit a fucking brick…"

And then Scorpius just sort of half shrugs. "Lucky for us, though."

My shocked look turns into an extremely angry and dumbfounded look. "Are you mad?" I ask incredulously. "That's my fucking cousin, you know that, don't you?!"

"Sorry," Scorpius frowns and looks at me, affronted. "I didn't realize you two were suddenly best mates…"

"That's not the point of it, is it?" I snap. A few people look over at us, so I lower my voice to a hiss. "The point of it is that he's my family, and you obviously don't give a shit about that! You're too caught up in some stupid Quidditch match!"

"Why are you yelling at me?" he asks defensively.

"Does it _sound _like I'm yelling?" I bark, my voice a deadly hiss.

Why _would _he care about my cousin? It's just one less Potter for his family to be bothered with. I hate myself the second the thought enters my head.

"I didn't mean-"

"Forget it," I snap, crossing my arms over my chest angrily.

"But-"

"I _said _forget it." I don't know how _my _mood flipped so quickly, seeing as how the mood swings are supposed to be Scorpius's thing. I feel bad for accusing him, even in my head, but I'm also honestly pissed off, too, so it's difficult.

"Rose, I'm sor-"

Stop with all the damn apologies.

"I've got to go study," I say briskly, standing up in front of my still-empty plate.

"I thought we were going to study together?"

I just shake my head. "No. Not tonight. I need to study alone." I grab my bag up from the empty seat beside me. "You should probably go back to the Slytherin table…"

Scorpius looks at me as if I've just murdered his puppy. I feel bad. Really, I do. But I don't want to be around him right now. I don't know why.

"So," I say awkwardly, trying to keep my face blank, "see you tomorrow."

He just looks at me and says nothing. Down the table, I can see Elisabeth and Meghan with their heads bent together, watching us. I can only imagine what they're saying.

I leave then, and I go straight back to Gryffindor.

I can't believe I've spent fifteen years begging for details about my parents' pasts, only to find out that it wasn't something I wanted to learn at all.

--

A/N: Next up… Al, I believe! Thanks for the reviews!!


	44. Al, It Is What It Is

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 44

**AL, IT IS WHAT IT IS**

--

If I had to wager a guess, I'd say there are only about two things in the world that my brother actually gives a crap about.

Girls and Quidditch.

In light of his newfound monogamy, I'd wager that Quidditch is even more important than ever. Actually, when you think about it, Quidditch is pretty much what started the fall out between James and me in the first place. If I said I wasn't bitter or that I was over it, I'd be lying. But I'm not _as _upset about it as I was at first because Chelsea actually _has _turned out to be a pretty good Seeker. I don't know if she's better than me (she did beat me the one time I played against her), but she's definitely not awful. She's actually probably been a pretty good addition to the team. It still sucks, though, because Quidditch was pretty much the only thing _I _liked as well.

But James takes Quidditch obsession to an entirely new level. He's pretty much worn his team ragged with practice after practice after practice this year. They don't have much time for anything else, so it's no wonder that half of them are doing horribly in their classes this year. But perhaps they don't care. James sure doesn't. But what does he need good grades for when he's got his entire future wrapped up in a hypothetical professional Quidditch contract?

Or not.

Dad finally told him that he wasn't going to play in the Slytherin match. I learned about it from Rose, as she'd apparently heard it from Scorpius. It's pretty fucked up that the opposing team knew about it before James himself did, but I can't say I'm entirely surprised. Mum and Dad were probably afraid that James would go mental, fly off the handle, and end up hurting himself all over again.

And they were right- about the flying off the handle part anyway…

James and I hadn't really talked since he went in hospital. We sort of came to an unspoken agreement _not _to be giant dicks to each other anymore, but we didn't exactly become best mates, either. It's more that we just pretty much avoided each other. I was glad he was okay, but I wasn't been able to talk myself into the big apology speech I planned out in my head while he was unconscious. It was too weird. .

I happened to be at St. Mungo's the day Dad finally told him. It was the day before he was supposed to be released, and Mum wanted Lily and me to come pick up some of James's things and take them back to Hogwarts. We were actually up in the canteen having a bite to eat when the news was broken. By the time we got back downstairs to the room, James was out of his bed yelling at the top of his lungs that everyone was trying to ruin his life.

"You can't stop me playing!" he bellowed, completely ignoring us as we slipped back into the room. "I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want!"

"The Healers will not sign off on you playing," Dad said calmly. Apparently he had braced himself for the inevitable fight. Lily looked confused, but I wasn't surprised at all, seeing as how I knew the details before James himself did.

"Fuck the Healers." James wasn't playing, either. He looked positively insane, and his eyes were wide with seriousness. "I _have _to play!"

"You could hurt yourself. Worse this time."

"I've already nearly died, I don't see how it could get much worse!"

"James," Mum stepped in, using her _be logical for once in your life _voice. "Your head is not completely healed."

"Well, I don't know what kind of Quidditch _you _played, Mum, but I can't recall a single time I've ever steered a broomstick with my head."

She ignored him. "And your bones are still delicate."

Someone should have warned her that informing an eighteen year old male that he is or has anything that could be described as delicate was not the brightest tactic. James rounded on her as though she were, indeed, mental.

"My bones are not fucking _delicate, _for Christ's sake, Mum!"

"If the hospital doesn't sign off on you playing, the school won't allow it," she shot back, and her tone was suddenly sharper and more irritated. "And that's that."

"This is the last match!" he protested, completely ignoring her attempt at shutting him up. "It's the Cup! And the scouts are going to be there!"

"I'm sorry, James, but there's nothing we can do about it." Dad stepped back in, as apparently Mum was quite fed up.

"Oh, that's a bloody lie, and you know it! There's always something you can do," James snarled, and Dad sighed loudly, which only seemed to infuriate James even more. "This is my entire _future!"_

I wondered how long it would be until a Healer or one of the assistants showed up to see what all the fuss was about. James was yelling and very obviously pissed off; in fact, he might have been fairly close to hysteria.

I still don't particularly know _what _got in my head and convinced me that I should speak up, but apparently I'd gone off my head without noticing- does _anyone _notice when they go off their head?

"Michael Grast is playing reserve. He's been in practice all week."

The room went silent after my little interjection. I glanced at Lily who looked at me as though she were about to disown me at any moment. Mum and Dad both looked like they want to kill me, and James… Well, James looked as though he didn't know _who _he wants to kill first.

"So you've all known about this, haven't you?" he asked, staring around at all of us.

"Not me!" Lily said immediately.

"James-" Dad started to break in, but James wouldn't allow it.

"So you've all been in on it straight from the start. You probably didn't even _try _to convince them to let me play!"

"We know how important this match is to you," Mum said lowly. "But you aren't going to put your health at risk to play in it."

"Oh, don't act like you give a shit," he sneered. "You don't even care!"

"James-" It was Dad again, but he was once again cut off.

"If you cared about me at all, you'd know that this is the most important match of my life!"

I spoke up again, wondering why my mouth was suddenly working of its own accord. "You'll probably be fine in plenty of time to do trials this summer." I was trying to be helpful, but I should have known James wouldn't see it like that.

"Oh, you're probably loving this, aren't you?" he accused, his eyes narrowing nastily at me. "You've probably been hoping for something like this all year, haven't you?"

I didn't say anything. I just stared at him. I'm pretty sure Mum and Dad tried to interject again, but neither James nor I paid them any attention.

"Go on and gloat about it," he taunted. "Go on! I know you're probably ready to piss yourself in excitement now that I can't play, either. Well, you got your bloody wish, didn't you? Now my entire future is screwed!" He looked at me seriously as though he truly hated me. "Sorry I didn't die so that you could get all your wishes. I'll try harder next time."

"James!" Mum sounded horrified. I just kept staring at him, we were both daring the other to break eye contact first. Finally, I got sick of it.

"I don't even know why I fucking try with you," I muttered, narrowing my eyes one final time before I turned around and stalked out of the hospital room. I went back to the Floo connection and headed straight back to school without so much as a word to any of my family.

And James and I haven't spoken since. He came back to school yesterday and was, of course, met with a ridiculous amount of adoration and excitement, none of which he deserved at all. He wasn't very appreciative of it, either, and I'm sure he hurt more than a few people's feelings when he ignored their nice gestures in lieu of attending his pity party for one. The Quidditch team asked him to come to their final practice, and I was honestly a bit surprised that he went, though I expect it had something to do with his desire to tell them all how much they sucked and how horrible they'd gotten in the two weeks since he'd been away. Regardless, though, he claimed that it was still "his team" and that they better damn well win the Cup even if he couldn't play.

I myself debated whether to attend the match at all. I almost talked myself out of it, but, of course, I relented because no matter how I feel about James personally, Quidditch is still about the only thing that makes school tolerable. And this really _is _the match to end all matches.

The stands start filling up right after breakfast, despite the fact that the match doesn't even start until noon. I reckon people all want to get the best seat possible, and by the time I get there, it's already getting crowded. I end up sitting with JD on one side and Rose on the other. Rose is in a bad mood, and I'm sure it's got something to do with the fact that she and Scorpius are arguing more than they're doing anything else these days. She's been acting like that ever since she got the letter from her mum that basically told her everything she never wanted to know about the Malfoys. What's worse is that she won't tell Scorpius any of it, so he's probably completely confused as to what's got into her. If I didn't think he was annoying, I might feel sorry for the bloke. Rose, for what it's worth, has apparently chosen to support neither team today, as she's dressed in a plain white shirt and jeans. It's probably a smart move because if she were to show any type of support whatsoever for Slytherin, she'd probably be killed right here in the stands. So I suppose she thinks staying neutral is better than showing any sort of preference whatsoever.

The match starts out horribly, and fifteen minutes in, it's only gotten progressively worse. I don't want to say that it's all to do with the new Chaser because that would, in turn, be giving James some sort of roundabout praise, and I'm not particularly up for that. However, the lack of scoring on Gryffindor's part cannot be denied. Even Mariska and Emily seem off their game, and they're both really good normally. Michael Grast is making an absolute fool of himself and isn't succeeding in doing much of anything except narrowly missing Bludgers.

We're a few rows up from where James is sitting with his friends. They're down at the front of the stands, and he's barking orders at the team. It's hard to tell if they can even hear him, but they certainly aren't paying too much attention. They just continue right on… sucking. Slytherin's already up 70-10, as apparently not only do our Chasers suck but so does our Keeper. He may as well be sipping a tea and having a chat with the referee down on the ground for all he's doing to "protect" the goals.

On the other side of the pitch, the Slytherin cheering section is going wild. If they win this, they'll get the Cup, and if the match keeps going the way it is now, Gryffindor won't even end up in second. Slytherin's even gone for a particularly low blow and started up a chant that goes, "We love Potter!" which is a clear showing of the fact that they're beside themselves with glee over the fact that he can't play.

James himself is getting more and more pissed off by the minute, and the profanity that's spewing from his mouth is enough to make this match entirely inappropriate for anyone under the age of thirteen. A lot of the other Gryffindors have joined him, and it seems as though an all out jeering war has broken out between the opposite Houses. The teachers are doing their best to get things under control, but it's useless. A couple of them even take over the commentator's microphone and demand order, though they get absolutely no response. The Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs are forced to take sides, too, and it's not surprising that the Ravenclaws are rooting for Slytherin. If they destroy Gryffindor badly enough, Ravenclaw will end up in second place, so I suppose they've all realized that and have taken to joining in the Slytherin celebrations.

The match drags on for what seems like _forever. _Slytherin continues to murder Gryffindor, and before long, the score's at 120-30. We might as well just give up. The second the thought enters my head, though, I catch a glimpse of something gold whizzing low to the ground. I curse the fact that I'm not actually playing and cannot save the day by grabbing the Snitch and securing a win. It doesn't matter, though, because Chelsea seems to spot it almost immediately after I do. She turns her broom and zooms downward to the ground at an alarming speed. The crowd immediately goes nuts, and Scorpius follows her without hesitation. His broom is faster than hers, so despite the fact that she's got a head start, he soon passes her. Before either of them reaches it, though, the Snitch shoots upward through the sky, and they both turn their brooms and race after it. It's hard to hear with all the shouting that's going on, but James's voice somehow rings out above everyone's.

"Take him out!" he shouts loudly, motioning wildly at Elliott who actually does catch his eye this time. "Malfoy! Knock him off his goddamn broom! Take him fucking _out!" _

It suddenly occurs to me to glance at Rose and see her take on everything. She's been incredibly quiet the entire match, but when I look over, I'm shocked to see that her face is bright red and that her face is one of absolute fury. Before I can even say anything to her, much less stop her, she's shoving her way through a crowd of people to get several rows down to the front where James is. And when she reaches him, she shoves him so hard from behind that I'm half-shocked he doesn't go flying over the edge of the stands.

"Shut _up!" _she shouts angrily.

He spins around furiously and shoves her back, which causes her to trip backwards into some of his friends. I suppose the rules about not fighting with girls cease to exist if those girls have sat naked in a bath with you (before they had a choice).

"Stay out of this, Rose!" he yells back.

She isn't backing down, though, and she shoves him again, this time right in his chest. "You're such a bastard!"

"Fucking leave me alone!" At least he doesn't shove her back again.

"How about I punch you in your fucking face?!" she shouts, and I can tell all the way from up here that she's about to seriously have a mental attack. James should realize this, too, but he just keeps right on encouraging it.

"Fucking try it! How about _that?!"_

Somebody, I don't know who, tells them to stop, but they both ignore it. A second later, though, the crowd erupts into more noise than ever, cheers and boos seem equally loud. I look up, scared of what I'll find, and see that Scorpius has grabbed the Snitch and is holding it up triumphantly. James and Rose are both momentarily distracted as well, but a second later, everyone around us goes silent as James rounds on her once again with a look so full of hate that it even bothers _me._

"You are a fucking _traitor!" _he bellows at her. "You are a fucking traitor to your whole fucking House and your whole fucking _family!"_

The stands are still filled with an enormous amount of noise, but the small area around is still silent as everyone looks on at the brewing fight. Kate, who is sitting over here, looks upset, but she doesn't say anything, nor does anyone else. James has no idea that he's hit the most sensitive nerve Rose has, but I'm sure he wouldn't care if he _did _know. Rose stands perfectly still for a very long moment, and when she finally responds, her eyes are wet, and her face is even brighter than before.

"Piss _off, _James," she says lowly, and she's stalking away before he can respond. I can tell she's about to burst into tears, and I'm sure everyone else can as well. I almost get up to go after her, but I'm shocked to hear someone else call her name instead.

"Rose, wait!" It's Elisabeth, and she's on her feet and running after Rose almost immediately. I don't know what the hell _that's _about, seeing as how she's been nothing to mean to Rose for nearly the entire year. Her face looks absolutely sincere and legitimately concerned, though, and Meghan and Susie are hurrying after them both as well.

James also stalks off, in the opposite direction, of course. Kate goes after him, but she glances back at Rose who is trying her hardest to make it through the crowds and get away before anyone can stop her. I don't really know what to do. It occurs to me to be pissed off that Gryffindor has now lost by more than two-hundred points, which officially drops them from first to third. Mostly, though, I'm just in shock. I don't even know what I'm in shock of in particular, but I imagine it's probably a mix of everything that's happened lately.

There's been so much happen, and so much of it is just plain _shit._

The Gryffindor Common Room is not at all a cheerful place. The insane party that most people were hoping for earlier this morning is out of the question now, and everyone is milling around in rotten moods. I haven't seen Rose or any of her roommates since they left the stands, and I haven't seen James and Kate, either. I don't know where any of them would have run off to, but I suppose it's not really my business.

The OWLs start in two weeks, so I decide that now's as good a time as ever to start revising. I haven't got particularly high hopes for my grades, but I figure I can at least attempt to not look like a complete troll when I get my results. After all, I'm going to inevitably be compared to Rose who will get twelve Os, I'm quite sure. Sometimes it bloody sucks to be the same age as her, as I end up getting compared to her more than her own brothers do.

Potions. The exam I'm most likely to fail completely. I don't even know why I'm bothering. I can tell from the second that I start trying to revise that I'm totally fucked. I don't know any of the theory, and I'll be completely shit at the practical without even trying. Still, though, Rose's voice nags at me inside my head. _"If you don't study, you're going to end up with no options for your future."_

"I don't even know why you're trying. We're all completely fucked when it comes to Potions."

I look up when a real voice replaces the one in my head. I recognize the voice, of course, so I'm not surprised when I see the speaker, but still, I'm shocked because Meghan Thomas hasn't spoken to me since January.

I don't know what to say back, so I just sort of sit there and feel stupid. Meghan raises her eyebrows and gives me sort of an off smile. "D'you mind if I sit here?" She motions at the empty chair across from me.

I shrug.

Meghan sits, and she drums her fingers against the wood for a second before nodding back at my Potions book. "I was serious when I said we're all completely fucked. No one's going to pass except Rose."

If Montague has any say over it, maybe not even Rose…

"She and Lissy made up," Meghan goes on, either not noticing that I'm not replying or simply choosing to ignore it. "Well, we all sort of did. But you know, Rose was crying, and I guess Lissy'd finally had enough of watching her be miserable."

I had wondered why Elisabeth went chasing after her. They've been fighting nearly all year, but I knew it couldn't go on forever. They've been besties since First Year. It was only a matter of time.

"It got me thinking," Meghan goes on, and I really wonder what her deal is and if she honestly hasn't noticed that I've yet to say one word in return. "We used to be friends, didn't we? You and me?"

I finally look up, though I still don't say anything. She looks nervous but determined as she mindlessly plays with the edge of the table.

"I just wanted to apologize," she finally says. "I know I probably fucked everything up…"

"You can't fuck something up if there's nothing," I retort harshly. I wasn't even sure that I was planning on replying at all, but it was sort of immediate.

Meghan frowns, then she nods slowly. "True… But we've always been friends, haven't we?"

I shrug.

"I know I probably hurt you," she goes on, her voice seeming to drag as she thinks up what to say. "But I didn't know."

"It doesn't matter," I snap. "It is what it is."

"But it's not, is it?" She sighs loudly, and I'm glad that everyone's so caught up in their own pissy moods that no one's even noticed us. "It's different because now I know."

"Know what?" I demand, though I don't let my voice rise in the least. "You think you've got it all figured out, don't you? You go and shag my brother, but then when he treats you like shit, I'm supposed to pick up the bloody pieces, aren't I? Well, I'm not doing that anymore! I'm not cleaning up his messes or your messes or anyone else's!"

"Look, I know you and James don't get on all that well-"

"You don't know shit about James and me," I cut her off. "You don't know shit about either one of us."

"I know you're complete opposites. I know he's an arsehole and you're too nice for your own good." Her eyes still look very determined.

"We're not that different," I argue, wondering where all of this is coming from. "You just don't know that because you don't know either of us."

"Look, I don't care about James, alright? I don't care if I ever speak to him again."

I roll my eyes. "Well, lucky for you, after next month, you can get your wish if you want it. I, on the other hand, am not so lucky."

"Do we have to make this about him?" I can tell by the way she's fidgeting and the way her voice is changing that he's still a sore subject for her.

"We don't have to make anything about him because there isn't anything to make," I say flatly.

Meghan sighs again. And she looks at me for a long moment before finally lowering her voice back to a calm level. "I just thought we could go back to be friends, that's all."

I don't know why I'm being such a bastard, but I can't do anything about it. "Well, you're not that smart then, are you?"

Meghan glares at me and then rolls her eyes and walks off. I don't watch her go. Instead, I look back at my book, determined to prove her wrong. We're not all completely fucked when it comes to Potions.

And she and I will never be friends.

--

A/N: Oh, good god. Everyone's gone and killed their individual momentary happiness. And now I'm sure I've got a lot of angry reviews waiting! Hahaha, leave them, I appreciate all feedback )


	45. Kate, Done

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 45

**KATE, DONE**

--

Mandatory revision.

This is complete rubbish. Mandatory revision- it's a joke! Who do they think they're kidding with this crap? I don't know who to be more put off with- the professors who thought this shit up or the idiots in my class who gave them a reason to. They _would _implement this new policy in _my _Seventh Year, wouldn't they? We're supposed to have these last two weeks before NEWTs off for studying, but the Seventh Year is so full of fuckwits this year that the administration doesn't trust us to use our time "wisely." So they made up this bloody mandatory revision mess, which means we're all now required to spend nine to four in the Great Hall every single day doing mandatory revision.

The main problem with this set up, of course, is that the other years are still carrying on with their classes, which leaves very little supervisory options for the Seventh Years. Not to mention, of course, that I'm sure none of the teachers are too particularly keen on the idea of babysitting a bunch of eighteen year old students all day long. So we're mainly left on our own, which makes the entire thing even more pointless than it would be if we had a professor watching over us all the time.

Hardly anyone is actually taking advantage of the study time. Most people are using it to write letters, play Snap, and sleep. The only people who seem to be taking it seriously are the Ravenclaws, which isn't a surprise. Even outside of the mandatory revision hours, the Ravenclaw Common Room is filled with students who are very nearly breaking their necks trying to study and retain as much information as possible. The Fifth Years are doing the same thing, and I often wonder if half of the people in my House even realize when the sun sets and when it rises, seeing as how they do nothing but revise at all hours of the day.

The Gryffindor Common Room is quite the opposite.

Walking into it, you wouldn't ever believe that OWLs and NEWTs are just around the corner. The only person I ever see revising on a halfway decent level is Rose Weasley, and she's probably the only person in that entire House who doesn't _need _to study. I don't know too much about the Fifth Years (other than the fact that not too many of them seem particularly sharp), but I am very familiar with the Seventh Years. And trust me, the whole lot of them could do with spending a few hours in the library.

It's bothersome to me, though, because I feel like I'm torn in the middle of the two. On the one hand, I am a Ravenclaw for a reason. I _do _actually care about my marks, and I can't just throw all that away in favor of some stupid game of Exploding Snap. On the other hand, I don't particularly like most of the people in my House, and I find them all to be rather annoying and stuck up. The Gryffindors are much more entertaining and laid back, and it is nice to escape the cutthroat atmosphere of Ravenclaw in times of exams. Still, though, I'm not doing myself any favors by spending time having fun with the Gryffindors instead of with my books out revising. So I try for a varied mix of the two.

During our hours in the Great Hall, I normally sit with James and his friends. They're good, though, because they realize the NEWTs are actually important to me, so they normally let me study in peace. At the moment, I'm not even sure what they're talking about, but I don't imagine that I'm missing out on much, seeing as how they usually only ever talk about Quidditch and sex. I don't particularly care to comment on either subject, so when they do occasionally try to engage me in conversation, I just shake my head and continue reading my text. I'm focusing on Ancient Runes today. I've been having a bit of trouble with it this term, and I'm not sure if it's because it's gotten that much harder or if it's because I'm distracted. I try not to let things interfere with my schoolwork, but the past few months have been quite busy and hectic.

And having a boyfriend doesn't really help.

Speaking of my boyfriend, I'm not positive that he's even brought his books at all today. He certainly hasn't got any out, and he and his mates are currently looking at some magazine I'm quite sure I don't want to see. I swear, the Gryffindors as a whole seem to be completely oblivious to NEWTs all together.

I keep myself occupied trying to translate a particularly difficult passage. It seems to take forever, but at least I've made an indention in it. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get into it at all. A bit of it's coming back to me, though, and the longer I work at it, the easier it becomes. I'm so preoccupied by the task at hand that I don't even notice the devious work going on beside me, and it isn't until I hear any and all talking cease that I realize something must be up. Against my own better judgment, I put my quill down momentarily and look up to see what all the fuss is about.

I immediately wish I hadn't.

"Oi!" James has jumped up on a chair before anyone even notices. "Listen up!" he yells needlessly. The second he jumped onto the chair, the entire Great Hall went silent, so it's really not necessary for him to tell everyone to listen.

I glance around to see everyone's reactions. Most people are just watching intently, though a few of his friends look fairly amused. I personally haven't a clue what he's on about, but I have a feeling that it probably isn't good.

"Who here is sick of being told what to do? Mandatory revision! What a load of bollocks!" Oh, wonderful. I can tell this isn't going to end well. Several people give a little cheer of encouragement and agreement, though, and he carries right on. "Who are they to tell us that we _have _to study?"

"They can't make us learn!" It's Robert Sandwall, a Hufflepuff who isn't known for much other than making dumb jokes and getting into trouble.

"You're right, mate," James agrees seriously. "They can't make us learn, and they can't make us revise. Who are they to tell _us _how we ought to live our lives? Who are they to tell us that we even have to take these stupid fucking tests in the first place?"

He receives a very _loud _cheer in response to that. I personally want to die, but it's clear that I'm in the very vast minority of people who think he's an idiot. Most of the other Ravenclaws look on disapprovingly as well, but nearly everyone else seems a bit too excited by his idiocy.

"We all took the bloody OWLs, and what good did that do us?" he asks loudly. "The entire point of that was to get us ready for the NEWTs, and what are the NEWTs going to do for us? They think they can force us to take some stupid tests?! Why should a couple of fucking tests determine our futures? How does a piece of paper define who we are as human beings?!"

"A test can't do that!" some annoying idiot called Marcus cries out.

"Yeah, what does our mark on an exam have to do with who we are?" joins in an equally annoying idiot called Beth.

"It's got nothing to do with it!" James runs his hand through his hair the way he always does when he's being "cool." I guess it's supposed to be attractive, and fine, yes, I'll admit it- I used to think it was. Now I just mostly think it's annoying.

"So what are you suggesting?" Elliott asks, and the smirk on his face gives him away. Ten galleons says they planned this, and I'd be willing to double that and bet that they even have a bloody script if Brampton chimes in any time soon.

"Well," James goes on confidently, "I think we should stand up to them."

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Brampton. Of course. Damnit, I could be twenty galleons richer right now.

"I'm glad you asked that, Brampton," James grins stupidly, but even stupid grins look cute on him. "My suggestion is that we stop bowing down to tradition and stop doing whatever _they _tell us to do. They haven't got any control over us, we're all adults here, are we not?"

Another cheer of agreement.

"So I say we tell them to take these tests and shove them!" As if to reiterate his point, he holds up one of the pamphlets we were given earlier this week. The title reads _NEWTs AND YOUR FUTURE: WHERE WILL YOU GO? _James holds the pamphlet up for everyone to see, and then he slowly but pointedly tears it straight down the center. Most people yell words of encouragement, and a few even start applauding. James, of course, looks majorly pleased with himself. "If we all take a stand and refuse to take these tests, there isn't a damn thing any one of them can do about it!"

Brain injury. I try to repeat this to myself over and over to keep from grabbing my wand and hexing his bollocks off. He hit his head. Hard. It's just the head injury talking. My boyfriend is not _really _this much of an idiot. I'm not _seriously _dating a dumbfuck who just suggested we all blow off the most important exams of our entire education. No. Not _really. _He hit his head. Hard.

And to make matters worse (of course), he's got so much control and influence that the vast majority of our classmates burst into a loud exclamation of agreement. James beams and then carries right on.

"If we all refuse to take these stupid exams, what the hell can they possibly do? They can't just deny us _all _jobs, can they? Of course not! So it's time we stand up for ourselves and tell them that we're _not _going to let our lives be determined by the marks of a fucking _test!"_

"Hear, hear!" I don't even know who yells that because I'm too mortified to do anything but stare at the monstrosity in front of me, absolutely dumbfounded. How is it possible that this actually real? That my boyfriend really _is _that fucking stupid?

"The NEWTs don't mean anything," James goes on carelessly. He glances at me and offers a quick wink that I suppose I'm probably supposed to find endearing. I don't. James doesn't notice, of course, because he's completely caught up in himself and his own agenda. "My dad didn't take _his _NEWTs. Hell, he didn't even do his Seventh Year!"

A lot of people seem shocked by this bit of information. I swear a couple of people even _gasp _like they've just been told truly amazing and shocking information. It's ridiculous how they treat him as though he's some sort of prophet or something and not as if he's just as much of a brain-dead slacker as the rest of them.

"So what're we going to do?" It's that idiot Marcus again. He looks like some sort of eager puppy or something, and I have the strongest urge to slap him.

"What we're going to do, mate," James answers immediately, "is tell them to take the NEWTs and shove them. We're just going to flat-out refuse to take them. We'll even stage a protest if necessary!"

This sends the entire room into a mad rush of cheers and excited chatter. I just look on hopelessly, knowing that nothing _I _say can possibly end this madness. Across the room, I can feel the eyes of my Housemates on me, and I know what they're thinking. They're accusing me of being involved in this, and they're going to make me into even more of a pariah than usual. Ten minutes won't pass after we leave this room until at least two or three of them have run off to various teachers to tattle, and I'm sure I'll get thrown right in there when they're listing the culprits responsible for this mess.

I soon drown out all the idiocy and look down at my book, determined not to be involved with this. No one notices anyway, or at least no one at the Gryffindor table. They're all too engrossed in planning what they're sure is going to go down in history as one of the greatest moments in Hogwarts history. For one second, I contemplate going back to my own table, but I'm not too keen on hearing the lecture that I'm sure will be waiting for me. So I stay put and just try to make it all go away.

Eventually Professor Longbottom comes in to check on us, and it's obvious that he knows something's up the second he enters and sees the room in completely chaos. He tells James to get off the table and tells everyone else to quiet down and get back to studying. James stops him, though, and I know he can't possibly be up to any good.

My suspicions are confirmed when he says, "Tell us about your Seventh Year."

Longbottom hasn't got a clue as to what's going on, and he absolutely doesn't realize that James is tricking him into confirming his own story. The teacher looks a bit confused, but when he sees how intently everyone is looking at him and waiting on his answer so eagerly, he relents and starts telling this story about how his Seventh Year of school was a nightmare and how the Death Eaters were in charge and wouldn't allow them to learn anything besides Dark Arts. He talks about being forced to practice Unforgivable Curses on other students and how they were physically beaten if they did or said one thing that wasn't in line with what the Death Eaters wanted them to do. He's excited to tell the story, that much is clear, and the fact that every single student in the room is holding onto his every word eagerly just encourages him further. Truthfully, it _is _an interesting story and not one that's generally published in the history books. It isn't long before Professor Longbottom has captivated the entire class in a way he's never once managed before in all our seven years before. Even James looks rather interested, despite the fact that I can't imagine he hasn't heard this story a million times before.

"And where was my dad?" James asks, and the glint in his eye proves that he's playing Professor Longbottom for everything he's worth.

"Well, your dad wasn't there," Longbottom answers a bit uneasily. "He was out finishing the Horcrux business. And he was on the run, too. If he'd come to school, he would have been captured and handed straight over."

I wonder what it was really like in those days. We know what the history books say, but it isn't often that you hear actual firsthand explanations by the people directly involved. My mother was already out of school and on her second husband by the time Harry Potter saved the world, so she has very little to say about it besides, _"Oh, yes. That was awful."_ Professor Longbottom, on the other hand, was good friends with James's parents and was in the same year as his dad. He probably knows everything that happened, and I'm sure if he ever got the fancy, he could probably tell enough stories to keep the entire school occupied for days. But it's rare that _anyone _talks about it really. James has even said that _he _doesn't really know what happened because all the adults in his family keep quiet about ninety-five percent of it. It's strange. I can't imagine being involved in something that major, _saving the world _even, and not wanting to share to the details.

Professor Longbottom seems to decide that he's telling too much, so he stops with his storytelling and again tells us all to get back to revising. He looks pointedly at James as if he knows that he's planning something rebellious, but James just flashes him that stupid grin that somehow manages to come across as perfectly innocent, and the teacher seems to fall for it, despite the fact that he's known James since the moment he was born and should be well over any sort of charming effect that he normally has on the majority of the administration. He leaves us then, and the Great Hall immediately erupts back into excited chatter- some about the upcoming NEWTs protest and some about the new information that Longbottom has just shared.

I try to ignore it all and just get back to Ancient Runes.

Later, after we've finally been released from our mandatory revision, I find myself alone with James as we walk down the corridor on the way to get ready for dinner. I purposely took a long time packing up my books in an attempt to make him leave me and run off with his mates who were out of the room the second the clock ticked to four. However, he waited for me patiently and even offered to carry my bag. I hate when he does that, but it's pretty common that he turns into the perfect gentleman the second his friends are out of earshot. I wish it bothered me more than it actually does.

"What's up with you?" he asks, and I keep my head aimed straight ahead so that I don't have to make direct eye contact with him. It's much easier to be hacked off at him if I don't actually _look _at him.

"Nothing." I know my voice gives me away, though, and I can hear the unintended shortness of my words come out without any effort whatsoever on my part.

"Something's wrong," he says quietly, and I know what he's doing. He knows I'm not too pleased with his grand scheme, and he's doing his best to play dumb and innocent in an attempt to make me forget exactly what he's done to put me in this mood to begin with.

It's not going to work.

"What's _wrong," _I stop walking, and he ends up having to backup to get back to me, "is _you."_

He looks surprised, and I can tell he wasn't really expecting me to just come out with it like that, but he shouldn't have asked if he didn't want to hear the truth. "What did _I _do?"

I roll my eyes and finally look at him, determined _not _to let his eyes or anything else distract me. "Oh, nothing," I answer sarcastically. "You just managed to convince practically our entire _Year _that they should stage a protest against the most important exams of our entire academic careers."

"Oh, you're mad about _that?"_

I can't help it. I literally stamp my foot. Just like a two year old. But I can't help it. He drives me _insane. _

"James, did you seriously hit your head _that _hard that it made you completely _stupid?!"_

A group of Fourth Years pass us and nearly break their necks turning around to stare. James notices this, too, and he grabs my hand and pulls me into the nearest empty classroom so that we can, presumably, conduct a private argument. The second we're away from the corridor crowds, though, I yank my hand away and cross my arms defensively.

"No," he says firmly as he shuts the door and turns back around, "I'm not _stupid." _His face looks annoyed, and I wonder if I've hit a sore spot.

I don't care if I have.

"Well, you do a bang on good impression of it!"

"Just because I don't go 'round with my nose stuck in a book all the bloody time doesn't mean I'm _stupid."_

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demand. "Is that supposed to be some dig at me?"

"Ever since I've been out of the hospital, you haven't said more than two words to me! Every time I want to spend time with you, you make up some excuse that you've got to study!"

"It's not an excuse!" I shoot back. "The NEWTs are _important, _James. And anyway, that's a fucking lie because I have spent plenty of time with you!"

"Yeah, _sleeping!"_

"Well, excuse me for being tired, seeing as how I'm actually attempting to give a damn about my future and actually _prepare _for these tests instead of concocting some idiotic plan to get out of them. And if you've found me less than eager to be around you, then maybe you ought to think about the way you've been acting since you've been out!"

"What does _that _mean?"

I roll my eyes. "You've been in a piss-poor mood the entire time. And _you're _the one who hasn't had time to talk because you're always too busy sulking about Quidditch like it's the most important thing in the entire fucking world!"

"It _is!"_

That leaves us in silence for a couple of seconds because I don't think either of us expected that answer. He looks like maybe he wants to feel bad, and his face brightens up to an awkward shade of red. I just feel like an _idiot _because I somehow managed to convince myself that maybe _I _was important, and he just flat-out admitted the opposite.

"Fine then," I swallow to get my voice even when I finally start speaking again.

"Kate-"

I shake my head and cut him off, though. "That's fine."

He groans in frustration. "You don't understand."

I just shake my head again. "No, I guess I don't because I can't imagine a _sport _being the most important thing in my life. But if that's the way you feel, then that's fine."

"You don't understand because you're _smart," _he goes on, completely ignoring me. "You can be whatever you want because you're _smart _and people are going to be fighting over you when you finish school."

I roll my eyes again. He's so full of bullshit. "That's a load of crap! If anyone can get whatever they want, it's _you, _and you know it."

"Oh, yeah, because it's _so _easy for me," he counters sarcastically. "Just say the name Potter, and you get anything you want, right?"

"Pretty much!"

James looks seriously pissed off now. Apparently, I've hit another sore spot. "You don't understand that, either!" he accuses, his voice rising dangerously. "You have no idea what kind of pressure that is, to live in that shadow! And any time you get anything, people accuse you of only having it because of your father!"

"Oh, poor _baby!" _The word comes out a lot more hostile than I intended, but I can't particularly care at the moment. "I'm so sick of you always trying to pull that card! You act like you've got it _so _terrible when there are so, _so _many people who've got it _so _much worse than you. But you wouldn't know about that because you're too self-involved to think about anyone else other than yourself!"

"Oh, you think so?"

"Yes!" I want to stamp my foot again, but I refrain. "You're so fucking _selfish, _James! You think the world owes you something when you haven't done anything to deserve it."

"You've got no idea what it's like it," he says, and his eyes narrow angrily.

"You're right. I _don't _know what it's like to have everything handed to you on a silver platter because not all of us are fortunate enough to be born into wealth and power and everything else that gets you whatever the hell you want whenever the hell you want it!"

"Quidditch is the only thing I'm good at!" And this time he shouts. "It's the only thing I can do that people can't accuse me of getting just because of my name!"

"So go to the stupid trials! God, you act like you missed your one and only shot."

James seriously looks like he wants to hit something. "The second I walk into those trials, I'm going to be looked at as a Potter. You don't understand that. At least if they came here, they could see me play as part of a team and see me as an actual player and not just a name!"

I roll my eyes yet again. He's such a fucking _infant._

"Well, sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to," I tell him heatedly. "Sometimes life sucks, and you just have to deal with it."

"You don't understand, Kate," he bites out angrily. I'm so sick of him saying I don't understand; it's so annoying. "You don't seem to get that I'm _fucked. _When it comes to these tests and classes and everything, I'm _fucked. _You can't understand that because everything comes so easily to you."

"Bullshit!" Now _I'm _pissed. "I work my _arse _off to make the grades I do. I'm not some natural genius, I have fucking _work. _Your problem is that you don't even _try!"_

"I _do _try-"

"No, you don't!" It's high time someone calls him on his shit, and I'm bound and determined to let him know all about himself. "You expect to have everything _handed _to you, and if something doesn't go exactly the way you plan, then you just refuse to do anything other than whine about it and come up with idiotic plans to get yourself out of it!" He glares at me, but I keep right on going. "And maybe you think you're going to get away with this stupid _protest, _or whatever the hell you want to call it, but it's going to come back to bite you and everyone else because the real world isn't going to put up with your bullshit the way everyone at this school does!"

"When did you decide to become my mother?"

"Maybe the second you decided you wanted to be a child for the rest of your life. Grow the fuck up, James!"

The air is dead for a few moments, and we just stare at each other. I don't know, but it seems as if there's some sort of unspoken challenge going on. I can only force myself to care for about a second before I reach over to grab my bag away from him.

"So that's it?" he asks as I sling it over my shoulder.

I shrug and look away.

Another beat of silence, and then I see him shake his head from the corner of my eye. "Whatever," he says dully, and then he sort of scoffs. "What the fuck _ever."_

The door slams as he storms out, and I don't even wince. Whatever- it's such a James thing to say. What does that even mean? _Whatever?_

Well, what the fuck ever to you, too.

God, he drives me insane. It was just a few weeks ago that he was asking me to marry him- granted he was high on pain medication at the time, but still. They say an intoxicated man's words are a sober man's thoughts... Not only that, but he told me that he loved me. He's never said that before, and he certainly hasn't said it since. But he definitely said it that once, and maybe I was just being naive by thinking that he actually meant it. Clearly, that was just me being stupid because James is never going to change. He's always going to think of himself first and others later, and there's nothing I can do to change any of that.

I had to be an idiot to ever think this would work.

--

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but I've been sick. Thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome!


	46. Scorpius, Sixteen and Straining

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 46

**SCORPIUS, SIXTEEN AND STRAINING**

--

I've never been popular.

In fact, I've been pretty much the opposite of it for as long as I can remember. I didn't grow up around any other children, and my social career since I've been at school hasn't exactly been something to envy. I don't suppose it ever bothered me too awfully much; a lack of friends was just something I grew used to. It's hard to miss what you never had in the first place, so I guess I eventually just stopped noticing. It didn't matter anyway because everyone around me was an idiot.

Except for that one girl who was as far from an idiot as it was possible to be.

Rose never had a problem making friends. She came into school knowing plenty of people already, and she immediately fell in with those that she didn't know. People _wanted _to be her friend, and even though it was obvious that most of them were more enamored with the legends of her parents than anything they knew of her, she didn't really seem to mind. She was popular. I suppose that to some people, popularity really means something. Now, I imagine that she was probably really noticed for the first time in her life, seeing as how she fell into the middle of a huge family. Since her family doesn't seem to play much favoritism when it comes to war heroes and their offspring, I imagine she probably just felt lost in the shuffle. Not to mention, of course, that I now know that she doesn't even really get on that well with the other kids in her family. Not that I know any of them _extremely _well, but from what I _do _know of them, I can't really say that I blame her. The ones I know are al self-centered and spoiled and not exactly nice. Now, some might argue that Rose is all of those things as well, and maybe she _can _be, but at least she has an excuse. At least when she treats everyone else as though they're below her, it's because they really are. I can't imagine what it must be like to be _that _smart and have to put up with people like her cousins. They annoy _me, _and I'm not even _half _as smart as she is.

But looking at them from the outside, it is rather easy to see why people seem to be fascinated with them.

I don't think any of them would ever realize (or at least ever admit) how alike they really are. Maybe it comes from being part of such a big family or maybe it just comes from having parents who saved the world, but they all have very distinct personalities. Rose and James, especially. They're both so big in everything they do, just really sort of _loud _personalities. I think that's probably why they hate each other (or at least pretend to). It's obvious that they all suffer from some sort of strongly-rooted competition disorder where they all think they've got to be the biggest or the most noticed. That's why they're so extreme. But so much of it is just an automatic reaction, I think, sort of as if they all think they _have _to fight with each other. But when it comes to it, they're ridiculously protective of each other, too, so I think a lot of their so-called "hatred" for each other is just for show. In fact, if they were ever so inclined, I'm quite sure that Rose and James would get on fabulously and could probably take over the world if they really wanted.

But they would never give each other the pleasure.

James enjoys tormenting her too much, and Rose, well, Rose needs people in her life who don't have any desire to fight her for control. That's why she and Al get on so well. He does whatever she says, and he doesn't really ever disagree with her, at least not to a point where she can't easily make him say otherwise. I imagine they've probably been that way their entire lives. He's probably always done everything she's ever told him, and I'd be willing to bet that he's probably never once been in trouble in his entire life if she weren't to blame. Even as very small children, I imagine she probably got him into plenty of trouble because he probably never even thought to question anything she told him. And that's exactly what she likes. Which, I'll admit, is probably why she likes me… Truthfully, I think she enjoys arguing and sometimes I swear she picks fights with me on purpose, but overall, I think she likes the fact that I don't ever try to take control away from her. She's very bossy, and she likes when things go her way and when people do as they're told. Lucky for us both, then, that I wouldn't even know how to be bossy if I tried.

That's part of the reason why being popular has always come so easily to her, I think. She likes the power that being popular provides her, and she's generally always been at the highest point- up until this year anyway. People flock to _her. _She doesn't have to do any work at all. And that's been the story of her life for the past several years.

So you can imagine how hard it must have been to see it all fall right in front of her face.

I suppose she brought it on herself. She says she did anyway. Something about girl code or some crap that I don't understand and don't particularly care to. I guess it all started because of David Jordan and the fact that Rose decided to start snogging him after he broke up with her best friend. I don't personally see the problem, since Elisabeth and David _were _technically broken up (the only problem I see is that he's an idiotic git who probably doesn't know up from down because he's got his head shoved so far up his own arse that he's probably never even seen daylight), but I guess in Girl World, that sort of sin is unforgivable.

And it was. For awhile.

Rose lost all her friends. It wasn't just Elisabeth who turned her back on her, _all _the girls did. And so she watched everything she had as far as popularity go tumbling. I suppose I should be thankful for that because if it weren't for the fact that she was friendless, she probably never would have been desperate enough to start talking to me. Yes, I'm not stupid. I don't imagine that she suddenly started hanging 'round me because she's got such a great heart and is so nice. She was bored and desperate, and it worked out to my advantage. So maybe I ought to thank David Jordan… Or maybe not. I'd still rather hex him.

Now things are different, though. She's made up with her friends, and she's slowly but surely turning back into the leader of her group. I think it's just a natural role for her, so the second she says jump, everyone around her asks how high. People naturally fall into place behind her, and now that I'm not exactly on the outside anymore, I see that more clearly than ever.

So where does that leave me?

Well, it's difficult to say really. Truthfully, I'd been a bit worried that if she were ever to make up with her friends that she would decide she no longer needed me. Either that, or she would find me such a liability to her newly rediscovered popularity that she would dump me and claim temporary insanity. But she hasn't. Not yet anyway. The main obstacle for us is still the fact that our families both want to have us murdered- mine a bit more than hers. Her father would be more than happy to kill me with his own hands, I'm quite sure, but apparently her mother does a pretty good job of shutting him up because at least Rose no longer gets threatening lectures via Owl. I, on the other hand, get at least one piece of a mail a week telling me that I'm a disgrace and a disgust and a disappointment- all from my grandfather, of course, who has already apparently written me out of his will and disowned me, so I don't really know why he feels the need to keep writing to let me know how much he despises me. I've pretty well caught the concept by now, thanks.

But as far as where Rose's newfound popularity leaves me, well, I don't really know exactly. Things haven't completely obliterated yet, but they're definitely a bit different. It's not that she _ignores _me in public now because she doesn't, but she seems to have a lot less available attention for me. She sits with her friends again, and sometimes she convinces me to sit with them. But even when I do, she spends the majority of her time laughing and gossiping with her girlfriends rather than really talking to me. That's normal (I suppose), but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

And I don't.

I'm jealous, I'll admit it. I've gotten used to having her undivided attention for these past few months. I never learned how to share, so I'm not very good at it. I know I should just be thankful that she hasn't completely ditched me for her royal court, but it still sucks. Her friends aren't exactly what I would call _interesting, _and it bothers me that she's so grateful for their rediscovered acceptance.

But regardless, she still manages to make time for me. And _that _is definitely a good thing.

We've lost our spot in the library study room. It's unfortunate, but gossip travels like wildfire at Hogwarts, even to the teachers. Not only that, but Rose and I had the lovely honor of having our so-called "star-crossed affair" splattered all over the front page of the newspaper. Now, I don't really know what star-crossed actually means, but Rose says it isn't good- apparently at least one of us is most likely doomed for death... So anyway, Madame Laurence now treats us exactly the same as she treats all the other pairs of students who use the private library rooms to "study"- she barges in on us whenever she pleases, doing what she claims is well-within her rights as a member of the administration and curator of the library. So now we're forced to behave like all the other randy teenagers in this place and sneak around in storage closets and broom cupboards.

And that's… interesting…

It's not really all that bad actually. In fact, it's sort of fun because it makes things seem a lot more dangerous, and everything has to be really rushed, which makes everything a bit more frantic. And _that's _not bad because it just means we get to do a lot more than the kissing and very light touching that was so common in the library study room. Actually, things have picked up quite a bit ever since that day I went to her house and snuck into her bedroom. I think that was probably the breaking point, and being forced to sneak around in broom cupboards only makes it _more _interesting. She's not at all shy about taking her top off anymore, and it's gotten to the point where mine goes missing more often than not as well. We don't let it go further than that, though, but it doesn't really matter. Even though we haven't ventured to the point of losing anything other than the shirts, the limited space and seating in those closets leave very little seating options, which means that more often that not, she ends up on top of me. And needless to say, school skirts leave very little to the imagination when someone is straddled across your lap. But things only go _so _far, which, more often than not, means a visit to the showers afterwards. And it's getting extremely frustrating. I think I'm finally turning into a halfway normal sixteen year old male, and actually, it's not all that wonderful. In fact, it's very embarrassing. And annoying.

But it's okay. I mean, it's not like I'm going to push her further or anything. Not that I think she'd mind, though. She's a bit pushy herself… The other day, she asked me when I was going to touch her, and when I pointed out that I touch her all the time, she just rolled her eyes and said she meant _touch. _I was flustered, of course, and told her that I wasn't quite positive that _touching _her would be very proper. To that, she just rolled her eyes again and asked me what century I was from. Then she cut off the snogging all together and made us study Transfiguration instead.

That's another thing about Rose. She's a very good multitasker, so even between all of her new old friends and all of our non-_touching, _she's still very aware of our OWLs and makes plenty of time for revising. She utilizes the library to its fullest extent, though she now uses the tables out in the open. She doesn't dare attempt the private study rooms- not even by herself. Not that she's by herself very much, though. Like I said earlier, Rose is very good at getting people to do what she wants, so she can convince people to join her for revising more often than not. Occasionally she talks her mates into it, and if they're not up for it, then she always manages to drag her cousin or me to the library. Sometimes she drags both of us at the same time, which is annoying, mostly because Al Potter is not the first person in the world that I'd choose to hang out with. I'm not even sure he's the hundredth person I'd choose…

Al hates me. Of this, I'm pretty positive. I don't know exactly _what _he's got against me, other than the obvious factor of my surname, but it's got to be something more than that, I'm sure. Perhaps he thinks I'm going to take advantage of his cousin or something- corrupt her and turn her into a common whore or the like. Nothing could be further from the truth, of course, which I suppose makes it even more ironic. If anyone's doing the corrupting 'round here, it's definitely Rose. It certainly isn't me- after all, I'm apparently not even from this century, according to Rose. But I guess I must give off a corruption sort of vibe… or something. I dunno, really.

At the moment, he's staring at me in a way that sort of looks like he's planning my murder. I debate whether or not to tell him that he could probably save himself quite a bit of trouble by going to my grandfather. After all, he's probably already got people hired to do the job the second I get home for summer holidays. I don't tell him this, of course, just on the off-chance that he really _is _planning my murder. I don't need one more person plotting my demise, after all; one is more than enough, thanks. Instead, I just do my best to ignore him and keep my head ducked over my Potions book.

"You know," Rose says out of nowhere, "you're going to give yourself back problems sitting like that."

"Sorry," I mumble, sitting up straighter.

"You apologize an awful lot, d'you know that?" she asks primly. "I wasn't even talking to you, by the way. I was talking to this idiot." She accents the word idiot by slapping Al on the back of the head. He gives her a good shot, seeing as how he's so far slumped over his book that he may well be asleep. I guess he's given up the murderous stares.

"Don't hit me," he shrugs her off and sits up. "Jesus, Rose, with the fucking violence."

"You're such a whiny baby."

"Well, I'm about to be dead if I don't figure out how to fucking learn five years of Potions in three days." He's in a great mood, that much is obvious.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that five years ago." Rose swings a massive sheet of curls over her shoulder as she speaks. A couple of them smack me in the face, not that she notices, and the scent of her shampoo assaults my nose in an embarrassingly pleasant way.

"Well, thanks, Mum," her cousin shoots back sarcastically. "Or _actually, _you sound more like _your _mum."

Rose glowers at him briefly but then merely sits up straighter and says, "Well, _my _mum is two days away from being Minister of Magic. And I know for a fact that she paid attention in Potions, so what does that tell you?"

It's true, too. The election is on Sunday, and judging from the latest polls, there's absolutely no way that her mother can possibly lose. Rose is handling it quite well, considering the fact that she's gone through phases of being less than thrilled with the situation. Apparently she's past that now, though, because she constantly makes references to the election and her mother's upcoming political office, and she doesn't even sound the least bit indignant anymore.

Al looks from Rose to me and then back. "So are you going to the victory party together then?"

Victory party? Oh, right. For her mother's campaign. It's funny that despite the fact that I've grown used to the idea of her mother winning the election, but it hasn't really occurred to me up until now that Rose is soon going to be the Minister of Magic's _daughter. _Not really anyway. I mean, of course it's _occurred _to me, but I haven't really put it together like that before now. And a victory party? A real social event where the newest Minister of Magic will introduce herself and her family to the world (as if they aren't familiar enough already). It's quite absurd when you think about it all together like that.

Rose seems to think the idea is laughable, though, because she does- laugh, I mean. "Yeah, right. Can't you imagine the repercussions of _that?"_

"Well, one of you'd be sure to die," Al says smugly. "Though I'm not sure which one."

"Is she having a party then?" I ask, and I say it quietly because I'm a pussy like that. Rose and Al both stop their individual sniggering and look at me, obviously confused.

"Well, yeah," Rose says, and she glances over at Al in what is a very poor imitation of inconspicuousness. "They'll probably wait until term's over, though, so Hugo and I can go."

I nod, trying not to let on with any sort of eagerness or anything. "And you can… take a date, yeah?"

Then Rose laughs again. I feel like such a twat, and I don't know why the hell my mouth feels the need to shoot off half the shit that it does. Al also looks amused, though his appears to be more sort of conniving and mean, which is weird since I'm pretty sure Rose is the one who generally the one who has the corner spot on that particular market.

When I don't immediately join in on the laughter, Rose seems to realize that I'm serious and she sort of looks horrified. "Well, I'm not going to, am I?" she asks briskly. "Jesus, can you even imagine the reaction _that _would get?"

"What would get?" I ask, and I don't know whether to be more pissed off or offended. Both seem like logical reactions at the moment.

"Well, if my mum's going to be the bloody Minister of Magic, I can't very well go to our first public appearance with Lucius Malfoy's _grandson _in tow, now can I?"

"I'm pretty sure the whole world already knows," I reply, a bit more hotly than I mean to. "It would hardly be a surprise to anyone."

"Yeah, only my dad would probably snap your neck, and if that didn't take care of you, someone from your granddad's camp would come in and finish up the job, I'm sure." She laughs again and shakes her head. "It's one thing that people know, it's quite another to be showing it off in public like that!"

So she _is _embarrassed. That much is obvious by the blasé and overly-casual way she's talking about the possibility. I'm such a fucking _fuckwit…_

One person who seems _quite _amused by the conversation is Al, who is looking on with that same sort of semi-evil smirk that he's had since the second he brought this party up. I'd like very much to punch him on the nose, but I somehow don't think that would fly over too well with Rose.

"Look," she says, her voice a tad bit gentler. She seems to be making a conscious effort not to sound _quite _as amused by fuckwittedness. "It's probably just not a good idea for anyone involved if we're out in public like that… But maybe you could, I dunno, maybe you could come over for dinner sometime this summer?" She shrugs and smiles at the same time that her cousin finally bursts into real laughter. Rose glares at him with eyes that are narrowed and speaking some sort of secret language. He just laughs some more and shakes his head.

"Oh, come off it, Rose! Can't you just imagine it? Sunday dinner at the Burrow… Everyone would _die!"_

"Oh, shut up," Rose says crossly, and I guess my face must be showing some sort of upset emotion because she frowns at me and grabs my hand under the table. "Ignore him," she tells me, and I don't tell her that I've been trying like hell to ignore him for ages now. "You can come over my house if you want, alright? My dad'll just have to get over it." She takes my hand underneath the table and rests it in her lap before giving me a sort of encouraging smile.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Al rolls his eyes. "I doubt if spewing is good for my studying."

"Then go somewhere else," Rose says pointedly without sparing him another glance. She smiles at me again, and I want to kiss her really badly. But, of course, I don't for a couple of different reasons- not the least of which being that she just told me she's embarrassed to be seen in public with me. Her instructions seem to work on her cousin, though, because he gets up and leaves us alone, taking his Potions book off with him.

"Don't pay any attention to Al," Rose says, barely seeming to notice he's gone at all. "He's miserable, and he likes to make everyone else miserable, too."

"Why's he so miserable?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, you know, the usual... He's sixteen, horny, and hasn't got anyone to shag." She says all of this so nonchalantly that it's difficult to believe she's referring to anything other than the list of potions she's compiling for her practical.

"I can sympathize with him." I don't know _what _possesses me to say this out loud, but it's out there before I can think how to shove it back in. If I were in the habit of blushing, I'm quite sure I'd be bright red by now, but I don't really blush so it's safe.

Rose, for what it's worth, just raises her eyebrows and shakes her head a bit. "No, you can't," she says in an accent that sounds far too proper for any normal fifteen or sixteen year old discussing sex. "You could shag me whenever you like, you just choose not to."

It's a good thing that I'm not eating anything at the moment because I'm quite sure I might choke if I were. As it is, I do a fair bit of coughing, and Rose looks at me curiously, an almost sort of amused smirk on her face.

"Better now?" she asks once I'm done heaving. I glance over at her ruefully and wonder how it's possible that she manages to stay so composed at times like this. It's only then that I realize my hand is still resting in her lap. This is brought back to my immediate attention by the way that she slowly, but very deliberately, uses her own hand to slide mine just under the hem of her skirt and onto her very bare thigh. I don't say anything, but I don't exactly fight her, either, as she slides it carefully up higher over her bare skin.

"You could, you know?" she says quietly, glancing around at the few other occupied tables in the library to make sure no one is paying attention- or maybe to try and _draw _attention. You can never tell with Rose. She looks back over at me, all coy and determined. "Shag me, I mean… We could have sex, yeah? If you wanted…" Somewhere during her mini-speech, the determined look fades to something a bit more shy and uneasy. Still, though, she pushes right on. "You know that, right?"

My forehead makes direct contact with the wood of the library table at exactly the same moment as my hand makes direct contact with the band of her knickers. She laughs, and I jerk my hand away as though it's just been burnt.

"You're so funny, Scorpius," she says lightly, sitting up and straightening her skirt.

"If by funny you mean pathetic," I mumble, drawing my legs closer together, ever thankful for the table and its ability to hide embarrassing moments.

"No, funny," she affirms, lacing a few fingers through the hair at the back of my head and sliding them down my neck as my face remains down on the table. "You're so different than everyone else…"

I fight the urge to groan. Anyone who has ever been sixteen knows that being different is the _last _thing any normal person wants. Rose should know that as well.

"Don't you want to?" she asks, her voice suddenly much quieter, so much so that she has to drop her mouth down to my ear. "Have sex with me, I mean?"

She's gone absolutely mad. Of this, I'm sure. A few weeks ago, she would never be so forward like this. She's absolutely lost it.

"It's okay if you don't…" Disappointed. She actually sounds _disappointed._

"Are you fucking insane?" I hiss, turning my head to look at her without forcing either of us to raise up. "Of course I want to."

"Then what're we waiting for?"

"We're in the middle of the library."

"I don't mean right this _second," _she says briskly. "But honestly, what are we waiting on?"

I want to die. And also, I want to drag her under the table and rip her clothes off. It's a very conflicted sort of feeling, and I curse teenage hormones for the millionth time. She looks almost eager, and I wonder if it's possible that she really _wants _this.

"I thought we were just making sure," I say quietly.

Rose sighs and rests her chin on her arms as she turns her head to look at me. "Making sure of what?"

"Of everything." I wish I could disappear, but I also wish she'd come a bit closer so that I could kiss her.

Her skin turns a faint pink, and I'm surprised it's not a full-on blush. She blushes a lot after all- her pale skin and red hair make certain of that. But I'm not sure she's embarrassed right now; maybe it's something different.

"I think we're sure," she very nearly whispers without sitting up. "I've been thinking about it…" Dear god, she's been _thinking _about it… I twist uncomfortably in my seat, still thankful that the desk is there. She goes on, her voice quiet and wispy. "I've been thinking about it, and I think we should try it…"

Holy _fuck. _My trousers are very nearly too tight at the moment, and I don't think I'm going to be able to get up any time in the very near future. Rose smiles at me, her mouth all little perfect white teeth and pink lips. She's so beautiful… I don't know how it's possible that we're having this conversation- she and I.

"D'you want to try it?" she asks, and I can tell she's turning a bit nervous.

I nod once, unable really to say or do anything else. My mouth is dry, and my head is empty.

It's a good thing Rose is still able to be coherent. "So tomorrow night then?" Her cheeks are slowly turning a deeper red. "If you want…"

I nod again, completely dumbfounded. "Yeah, okay," I manage to get out, though it sounds strangled and breathless.

Rose just smiles once more, looking as beautiful as she ever does. And then she sits up and starts gathering up her books. I sit up, too, and watch her.

"I should go," she says finally, biting her lip as she stands up and straightens out her clothes. "I'll see you tomorrow." She flashes another quick grin, and I manage to nod again before she grabs up her bag and takes off.

I'm very well aware of the fact that I can't get up and go anywhere at the moment, and the temperature in the library seems to have risen about thirty degrees in the last half hour or so. It's awkward and uncomfortable, but it's still fabulous. My mind is racing with a million thoughts, and I'm sure my pulse is going far too quickly for what's supposed to be normal. But I don't care. I can hardly believe what's just happened…

And tomorrow can't come soon enough.

--

A/N: Again, sorry for the delay. I've still been sick, but I'm recovering now. Hopefully I'll have more time to write soon. Thanks for the reviews!!


	47. James Failed

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 48

**JAMES FAILED**

--

Who knew that the NEWTs could be so enjoyable?

I spent the last week or so staging a school-wide protest of them, and to say that it garnered a lot of participation would be a supreme understatement. I'd say that at least eighty-five percent of the Seventh Year population showed up for the first day of tests empty-handed and with absolutely no intention whatsoever to write their exams. Showing up was part of the plan- the visible part of the protest. We'd debated on skiving off of them completely, but we ended up deciding that it would make more of a statement if we were to show up and simply refuse to participate.

And it worked, too.

The professors went positively _mad. _They threatened us with everything they could possibly pull out of their arses, but it had very little impact. We stood strong in our protest, and we all sat at our empty desks without so much as a quill out. And the teachers wanted to _murder _us. They'd known it was coming, of course, because a couple of swots had to take it upon themselves to rat the rest of us out. And the professors had warned us, of course, that if we went through with the rumored protest that we would be held up to the highest of consequences and might even sabotage our chances at graduation.

And, of course, we went through with it.

It was entertaining if nothing else, watching the professors lose their heads over the fact that only a handful of people showed up for the exams actually prepared to _take _them. I was amused at least, mostly because I find controlling people quite fun. It's amusing to me that I have so much control that I can decide how, when, and even _if _my Year takes the most important exams of our academic careers. It's great, of course, because now that I've convinced well over half of my classmates to piss off the exam, the low scores I would have gotten otherwise now can't be held against me. No one can say anything about how poorly I performed on the NEWTs because I just didn't take them- me and most of the other Seventh Years.

I've cleverly been avoiding my parents' mail, of course, because I'm quite sure they're both eager to rip me a new arsehole. They've no doubt been informed that I was the main driving force behind the great protest, and I'm very positive that they aren't very pleased with the news. They are back to putting on ridiculously united fronts for everything, and this is no different, I'm sure. Simply put, that means Dad will now probably volunteer to hold me down while Mum murders me barehanded.

I don't care, though. There's nothing they can do about it. What's done is done, and the NEWTs are over now. It's the last night of term, and tomorrow we'll be heading back home for good- or at least until next week when they drag us all back for the graduation ceremony (which I'm not even sure most of us will be invited to). But the scores that we would have gotten mean nothing, and the world can't hold it against us. All in all, I'd say it's a pretty win/win situation.

And it certainly leaves plenty of time for partying.

The last half of the year or so has certainly put a damper on my partying habits. Having an actual girlfriend sort of cuts down on the times that you can drink liquor and smoke illegal substances and chat up other girls. And so now that I've been properly dumped by my first and only girlfriend ever, I suppose there's no hurt in trying to make up for lost time, is there? And it's not as if I have to try too hard or anything… Girls tend to flock to me when I don't even do anything…

Seeing as how it's the last night of term, everyone's in the mood for a party. The NEWTs are done, the OWLs are done, all the final exams are done, and now there's nothing left to do but get fucked and have fun. And I certainly intend on having plenty of fun. There are random parties all over the place, but the best one is in Gryffindor, of course, because we've got the most laid-back Head who tends to look the other way more often than not when it comes to teenage debauchery. There're plenty of people from other Houses as well because, like I said, it _is _the best party, and everyone knows it.

Elliott's got some wicked herb that definitely is _not _found in Neville's greenhouse, and he's rolled it nice and tight for all of us to share. It tastes good, too, plenty fresh and absolutely mind-blowing. Literally. It doesn't take much time at all for it to take effect, and all the colors in the room start blending together like some sort of beautiful rainbow.

"When I think back on school, _this _is the night I want to remember." Elliott says this loudly, and we all look at him curiously. He takes a long, slow drag and then smiles widely. "This is the night that we don't have to worry about anything, all we have to do is get fucked and get laid!"

Everyone laughs and nods in agreement, and Daniel Blunton actually grabs Polly Blake and starts snogging her crazy right there in front of everyone. It's like that all around, though- everyone is snogging everyone, and the people who aren't are laughing it up with their mates over a bottle of firewhiskey.

Brampton reads my mind and produces a bottle of his own. "Let's get pissed," he says seriously, and his eyes are already showing the effects of the other recreational activity. "This is the last time we'll see most of these girls after all…"

And so we drink. And drink some more. And shot after shot goes down, and before long, they're going down effortlessly. I'm actually not having a shit time, surprisingly, considering the fact that I've been a bit down lately over Kate's decision to piss on me. But I'm doing my best to not think about her. I just want to enjoy this night and have some fun with my mates. And not think about girls who are cruel and mean and don't give a shit about my feelings. And holy _fuck, _I'm already drunk. But I keep going, just forcing myself to laugh with my mates and not think about Kate Middleton or any of the things I'll never get to do to her again.

But then, of course, she's there. Right in front of me. I can't believe she actually came to _this party._

She looks exactly as beautiful as she always does, with her hair a mess and her neon yellow tights slouching to the point that it looks like they might fall down her legs at any given moment. She's got mascara smeared under her left eye, and her nail varnish is chipping as usual, probably because she's nipped the nails down to the quick.

And she looks absolutely stunning.

It's ridiculous what the sight of her does to my head (and my cock, for that matter). Just looking at her makes me want to do something stupidly dramatic like throw myself down at her feet and beg for forgiveness. The really sad thing is that I'd do it, too, if I thought it would do any good. But it won't. Kate hates me now, and she's made that perfectly clear by the way she's continuously told me to fuck off, sod off, piss off, and, oh yeah, jump off a fucking forty story building. So I think her feelings toward me are pretty obvious at the moment.

And maybe that's the reason I want her so badly.

It's a strange thing, but I've heard that you always want most what you can't have. Knowing that she never plans on sparing me even a second glance, much less a shag, makes me insane with want and need. And I'm pretty positive that I'll have to move to Siberia or somewhere equally as unlikely for her to show up if I want to salvage my pride in any sort of fashion. And if I want to save my dick the intense torture that having her within viewing distance causes.

At the moment, she's leaned against the wall chatting up some bloke called Derek who probably thinks he's ridiculously smooth for managing to get a girl like Kate chatting. He doesn't know, of course, that the only reason she's talking to him is because she knows I'll see and she wants to inflict the worst sort of torture on me. She's sipping on some sort of red liquid, and the way her lips wrap coyly around the straw should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. It takes every ounce of self-control that I possess not to march right over, grab her by the shoulders, throw her up against the wall, and kiss her completely and totally senseless.

Luckily, I'm able to restrain myself.

This is mostly due to the fact that Michelle Foster has her hand on my arm and is trying to drag me back to her friends- probably for an orgy or something, I dunno. The problem, of course, is that as pleasant as an orgy sounds, it doesn't have quite the same ring as running off with Kate and kissing those bright red lips and touching that messy hair. Clearly I've lost every ounce of street cred that I once possessed, seeing as how I've apparently turned into a giant vagina. And the worst part is that I can't even make myself care too much. It doesn't even really bother me, which is ridiculous and terrifying all the same.

God, why do I always fuck _everything _up?

It's not as if I didn't warn her, though. I very clearly told her that the chances of me being a good boyfriend were slim to none. Of course, I figured I'd lose her because I was fucking another girl or something, not because she thinks I'm a child. That bugs me, though, because I didn't ever ask her to be my mother. I never asked her to take care of me, so I don't know why she should care if I still behave like a child (according to her anyway). It's not up to her what age I act because she doesn't have to be responsible for any of it.

"Come play with me," Michelle says in what I suppose is supposed to be a "coy and cute" sort of voice. It's not really. She sounds like an idiot, and she looks like one, too, batting her eyelashes in a way too obvious attempt at flirting. It's a good thing she's hot because she doesn't have much else going for her. But she _is _hot, really hot. She's got long black hair and really dark eyes, sort of exotic-looking. I prefer blondes, though.

She's got her arms wrapped around my neck before I even realize it, and then I'm suddenly supporting her full weight, as she's quite pissed and can't really stand up on her own. Whatever Elliott rolled must have been really strong because I myself feel a bit uneven on my feet, and I haven't even really been drinking.

"I'm glad you're single," Michelle coos grossly, staring up at me with those almost onyx eyes and sagging in my arms, which are now wrapped protectively around her waist to keep her upright. "I like you better single…"

"Then you should like me plenty well now." There's no point in crying over a lost cause, or at least that's what my mum always says. When the fuck did I start listening to my _mum?_

Michelle giggles, and if I weren't so completely pissed, I'd probably cringe at the annoying sound. "I do like you, James." One finger slides from the back of my neck down around to the front and down my chest. She bites her lip 'flirtatiously' and smiles 'shyly.' Then she whispers, "Come upstairs with me, and I'll let you do whatever you want…"

Alcohol, herbs, offered sexual favors… It's like the makings of a teenage male fantasy. And Michelle is hot, so it's not even as if she's a low-grade on the scale. But even though I know I'm supposed to be making up for lost time and all that bit, I can't make myself too interested.

But she's kissing me before I even realize it. Her tongue's dipped into my mouth, and it tastes like licorice- the kind that she's _always _sucking on. She's a fair kisser, or at least it seems that way in my inebriated state. And because I'm a complete and total fuckwit, I kiss her back. And I even let myself start thinking about the _whatever you want _that she's offered.

It's cut short, though, when an irritated voice breaks in.

"Great catch, James."

It's Kate, and she's looking at me hatefully. I pull away from Michelle who now _also _looks at me hatefully. She crosses her arms and huffs. I ignore her. Kate sneers and then rolls her eyes.

"Kate, wait-" I say quickly, but she's already got her back turned and is stalking towards the other side of the Common Room. I hurry after her, though I've absolutely no idea why. I'm very, _very _sure I'm about to embarrass myself.

"Please talk to me."

Kate finally turns around and looks at me accusingly. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, and she's staring at me in a way that makes me fear for the future of my testicles because she's clearly contemplating the best way to hex them off.

"I don't have anything to say to you, James," she says stiffly.

"What do you want me to do?" I ask, a bit too desperately. The mix of herb and alcohol is hitting me full-effect, and I know I'm setting myself up for major embarrassment. I can't stop myself, though. "I'll do whatever you want. I'll _beg _if that's what you want, if that'll make you happy."

"Beg for what?" she snaps. "We don't have anything further to discuss."

"I want you to stop being mad at me."

"Well, I want you to grow up, but it seems as if we'll both be waiting on our wishes for a long, _long _time."

"I'm sorry, okay?" I say, wavering way too close to the desperation line again. "I'm sorry! Just let me make it up to you, _please."_

"Sorry for what?" she challenges, raising her eyebrows as she speaks. "What are you sorry for?"

I don't say anything because, of course, I can't really think of anything I'm sorry for. In all honesty, I don't really think I did anything wrong. She got mad at me because she didn't agree with a decision I made about the NEWTs. But it's not like I really _did _anything…

"You don't even know!" she accuses, and she says it with a very mean sort of sarcastic laugh. "Please spare me."

"Kate-" I take a step forward, trying to grab onto her, but she moves away. "Katie, _please _don't do this to me…"

I hear myself speaking, but I can't force myself to stop. I sound like a complete and total twat, and everyone around is eavesdropping, though they're all pretending like they're not. I wish I wasn't so drunk, then I might be able to cut the whining tone out of my voice at least.

"I didn't do anything to you!" she says angrily, and her eyes narrow. All traces of sarcastic laughter are gone.

It hits me out of nowhere that she probably wants me to apologize for Michelle. So I do. Because I'm a nice person like that.

"I'm sorry you saw me with Michelle. But she kissed _me, _I don't even like her."

To me, that should be enough. She should realize that I didn't initiate anything whatsoever with Michelle Foster and that it's not my fault if she was drunk and tried to bribe me with southern activities. Apparently, it's not enough, though- not _nearly _enough.

"You can go shag whoever you damn well please, James, it doesn't matter one fucking _shit _to me!" Several people are looking over now, not even trying to pretend like they aren't eavesdropping. "Michelle Foster is nothing but a _whore _anyway, not that _you _care! Birds of a feather and all that bit."

"Hey!" I'm pretty sure she just called me a whore. At least that's what it sounded like to me, but who the fuck knows right now? I'm so pissed I can't even see straight on. It's been a _long _time since I've been this drunk. But yeah, I'm pretty sure she called me a whore.

And a couple of people laugh, so I assume they realize she called me a whore as well.

Kate hears them, too, I suppose, and she's obviously embarrassed that we've got an audience. Without another word, she swallows quickly and then hurries away, letting the Portrait Hole slam shut behind her.

"Don't do it, mate," Brampton whispers seriously, and I'm shocked to realize he's even standing there. "You'll embarrass yourself."

"Don't do what?" I ask, looking at him and wondering what the fuck is even going on.

"Don't go after her." He shakes his head, and I wonder if I look as obvious as he does. His eyes are so bloodshot they might as well be totally red, and he can hardly stand up, either. I've _got _to find out what the hell that was that we smoked. Okay, focus. Brampton's trying really hard to tell me something, I should at least try and pay attention. "She… She is just a girl, and you… It's not worth it, alright?"

Not worth it.

The most beautiful girl in the world just walked away from me, and I'm supposed to be like, _"Cheers! She's not worth it anyway!" _Oh, my fucking _god. _The fact that I'm even thinking things like _the most beautiful girl in the world _just proves that I've really, truly flown right off deep end. Why am I so _drunk?_

"Look, man, just go upstairs and let Michelle suck you off or something. Forget about Kate, alright?" Great, now Elliott has joined in the party. He doesn't look nearly as off as Brampton, but I can't even think why that is.

These are my best friends. Really, these are two of the only people in the entire universe that I actually give a shit about. We've been best mates for a really long time, and it hits me suddenly that this is it. We're really about to be done with school and done with this forever. And that seals it.

"This is my last chance." I say the words quietly, and I hear how pathetic they sound coming out of my mouth. I can't help it, though. Some annoying girls are still hanging 'round trying to listen, and when Brampton sees me eyeing them, he turns around and tells them to piss off.

"This is your last fucking chance, alright," he says, spinning back towards me. "You've got your pick of every bloody girl in this place. You could be shagging any one of them, and instead, you're standing here crying about some bird who's already gave you what for and told you to fuck off. So man up, pick three or four of these girls, and forget about Kate."

"But I think I love her…"

There's dead silence from both of them after I say that. They both stare at me in what's got to be shock for a good long bit before turning to each other and shaking their heads.

"He's gone completely mental now, you fuck!" Brampton shoves Elliott right in the chest. "You and that sodding Bludger!"

Elliott looks as dazed as I feel. He stares at me all confused-like and shakes his head with incomprehension. "Seriously, James, what the fuck is wrong with your _head?"_

"There's nothing wrong with my fucking head!" I feel the sudden urge to reach up and rip my own hair out. "I just need to do this, alright?"

I don't wait for either of them to give me their permission or anymore of their opinions. I know they're probably going to call me a pussy and say I'm off the scale on insanity, but I can't make myself care. I hurry upstairs to the dormitory, not caring what anyone else might be thinking or saying. Kate gave me back the Marauder's Map when she officially dumped me by bringing back everything I'd ever given her or left with her. It isn't hard to find her dot when I pull the Map out of my trunk and unfold it on my bed. There aren't that many people in the corridors at this time of night, and I'm glad to see that she isn't moving, rather she seems to be stuck in one spot on the second floor. I don't even stop when I go back through the Common Room, not even when Brampton and Elliott call my name; I just hurry out into the corridor and break out into a full run toward the stairs.

She's right where I knew she would be, sitting alone in the little alcove beside the History room. She's got her knees pulled up and her head down, and I don't have to get too close to know that she's crying- that _I've _made her cry. I wish it were possible to punch myself in the face or, at the very least, to kick myself.

"Please don't cry," I say quietly, dropping down to my knees beside her. She gasps and looks up because apparently she didn't hear me approaching. Her cheeks are tear-stained, and the slightly smudged mascara from earlier is now running straight down her face. Even still, though, she looks beautiful, and I can't think about anything else other than kissing her.

"Leave me alone, James," she says in what I know is supposed to be a firm voice but is actually more of a choked one. She rubs her eyes in an attempt to hide her tears, and the black of her mascara smears even more. I don't think she realizes this.

I don't listen to her. This is my last chance. "Kate, I'm sorry. _Please _believe me. I'm sorry for hurting you and for making you cry, and I'm sorry that I'm the biggest prick in the entire world."

She doesn't say anything. She just looks at me and shakes her head. "Just stop talking," she mumbles.

I'm so frustrated I could scream. I want to, too, but I don't. I try to control myself enough to the point where I keep focused on the goal here.

"I just want you to forgive me," I say honestly.

"I don't."

This time, my frustration gets the better of me, and I let out a loud groan and ball my fists tightly. "Why are you making this so _hard?!"_

She glares at me and sniffs away the last of her tears. Then she stands up and says one more time in a very even voice. "Leave me alone."

I don't, of course, and when she starts to walk away, I scramble to my feet and stumble after her. Walking seems to be getting more difficult by the second, and just staying upright is causing me a lot more trouble than it's worth. I catch up to her, though, long before she makes it to the end of the corridor, and I grab her wrist to get her to stop.

She spins around angrily and yanks her arm roughly. "Let _go _of me!" She says it so loudly that I'm not going to be remotely surprised when a teacher comes to investigate. I don't react quickly enough for her, and with another hard yank, she pulls her wrist away, crosses her arms, and turns to walk off again. I hurry to move in front of her and block her.

"Will you please just _listen _to me?" I ask desperately.

She looks like she wants to kill me, and I wonder how long it's going to be before she pulls out her wand and hits me with an Unforgiveable.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," she says hatefully. "I'm sick of listening to you."

I don't even think. I just stare straight at her and put it out there.

"I love you."

And then, she slaps me. Hard. Right across the face. And it hurts. A lot.

I stare at her, completely stunned, for a long moment. Her arms are immediately crossed again, and she's glaring at me with so much contempt that I can't even start to comprehend it. My face is stinging and bright red, I'm sure, but somehow it makes me see things a bit more clearly and gives me better footing to stay upright. Still, though…

"Well, that wasn't the reaction I was hoping for…"

Kate narrows her eyes. "Don't you _dare _say that to me, you complete and total _bastard!"_

She screams the last word, and now I'm positive that a teacher or two will be showing up soon. I swallow, not understanding anything. I don't have a chance to open my mouth, though, because she carries right on.

"You can't pull this shit on me anymore, James! I know you too well, and I'm not falling for it anymore. You're not going to _do _this to me!"

"What am I _doing?" _I have no idea what I'm missing. I'm apologizing when I don't even really think I did anything wrong, and I just bloody told her I love her. And she slaps me and calls me a bastard and accuses me of trying to _pull _shit on her. What does that even _mean?!_

"You don't _love _me!"

My mouth falls open. "I just said I did, didn't I?! That's the first time I've ever said that in my entire life, or at least past the age of five!"

"You just said it because you think that's what I want to hear, but what I want to hear is the _truth!"_

"And the truth is I love you!"

She rolls her eyes so far back that they might disappear. "You love _yourself, _James. You love yourself more than you could ever love me or anyone or _anything _else. Except maybe Quidditch, since that's the most important thing in your life apparently!"

It hits me then. _That's _what she's pissed about. I wasn't thinking when I said that, and I don't think I really meant it. Except for it _is _really important to me… She doesn't understand that, though. She _can't _understand because she's _smart, _and she's going to be able to do anything she wants. She isn't going to have to rely on her parents' names to get her a job. I tried to tell her that, but she doesn't get it.

"Kate," I try to get everything straight in my head before I start spouting off at the mouth and screwing things up again, "I'm _not _lying."

"Then why haven't you ever said it before?" she demands. "The only time you've ever said it, you were so high off of pain medication that you couldn't even _see _straight!"

What? "I said that?" The outraged look on her face lets me know that was the _wrong _thing to say… So I hurry up and keep moving. "I meant it then, too!" Nice save. Yeah, right. "And I'm saying it now."

"You're drunk as fuck!"

"So?" I shake my head quickly. "That doesn't make it any less true!"

Kate doesn't look so much mad anymore as she looks hurt. And maybe like she's about to burst into tears again. "James, please just _stop," _she says quietly.

"Why won't you believe me?"

"You're making this worse," she says quietly. "I wish you'd just leave me alone…"

I have no idea what's going on. My head is starting to hurt, and the temporary sobering of the slap is starting to wear off. The room is spinning a bit. "Don't you like me at all?" The tone of my voice is straight up whining, and I hate myself for it. I'm so pathetic.

But Kate just looks at me with something so conflicted that I can't even begin to comprehend it. "James." She closes her eyes briefly and then opens them again. "The last time I had a boyfriend I was fourteen. _Fourteen. _I waited all that time for _you _to like _me."_

"I _do. _I _did, _I told you that all the time!" She's out of her head. I've never made any secret about the fact that I liked her or that she was the only girl I actually gave two shits about. Even _before _she gave me an ultimatum.

"You liked me enough to shag every other girl in this school."

I just look at her. I don't know what to say. "You knew who I was from the start."

A long beat of silence passes, and then she shakes her head. "And that's the problem. I knew who you were and thought you could be different. But you can't."

"I haven't _touched _another girl since January! Not until today anyway, and I told you, _she _kissed _me."_

"I don't care about Michelle!" She closes her eyes again and draws in a breath. "James," she swallows. "James, it's not about other girls anymore. It's about the fact that you haven't changed at _all. _You're still far too wrapped up in yourself to even _think _about anyone else. You're not ready for a relationship, and I'm not waiting anymore. I already waited three years…"

"But I _love _you."

"Even if you do, it's not enough." She looks so sad that all I want to do is wrap her up in a hug and hold her. "We're supposed to be grown up now, and you're not."

"Kate, _please, _I'll do whatever you want. Just _please _give me a chance…" _Fuck. _Please, please remind me never to drink or smoke anything ever again. I'm such a punk.

"I gave you a chance."

"But I'm in _love _with you, and you won't _listen."_

"James, just stop this."

"No! My life is already fucked up enough as it is, and you're the only part of it that makes any sense right now! I'm fucked on the NEWTs obviously-" She opens her mouth to interrupt and tell me it's my own fault, but I don't give her the chance. "I didn't get my chance at Quidditch. _If _I get another chance, I'll never know what it's based off of. My parents are shit, I don't know what the fuck's going on with them; they can't make up their sodding minds about whether they love each other or hate each other, and I'm sick of trying to keep up. Everyone I know thinks I'm a fuck up and a failure, but I don't give a shit because I only care about what _you _think. And you think the same thing! And I just want a chance to show you that I _do _care about you and that I _do _want to be with you. Just let me _show _you!"

I don't know why I do it, and I know I'm probably setting myself up for another slap across the face… But I kiss her. I grab her and kiss her, and I don't let her go, even when she tries to pull away. I don't let her. I just keep kissing her, and within a few seconds, she's kissing me back. And it's amazing, of course, because kissing her is always amazing. But it's over far too quickly.

Kate finally ducks out of the kiss and turns her head. "You taste like licorice."

"Kate-"

But she shakes her head. Tears are welling in her eyes, and I'm horrified to realize that she's crying because I _kissed _her. I don't say anything, and she doesn't say anything. We just stare at each other, and I can tell by looking at her that it's really over. She's not giving me another chance.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and a tear finally falls down her cheek. "I wish it wasn't like this, but you're never going to learn…"

I still don't say anything. I've got nothing left to say. I told her more in the last five minutes than I've ever told anyone in my life, and it didn't change anything. She still hates me. She still thinks I'm a child, and she still wants nothing to do with me.

And I still hate myself.

She turns around and walks away very quickly. I'm shocked and upset, and I don't know how the hell I got to this point. It's my very last night at Hogwarts ever, and I'm spending it by standing alone in the middle of the second floor corridor, watching the only girl in the world who matters one shit walk away from me. For good. And _my _eyes are wet, too, which means that I'm even more of a loser than I originally thought.

And it's over.

I've really, truly failed.

--

A/N: And there's my last James chapter tear. I really do like him a lot, but not everyone gets a happy ending. I'd like to thank Skins for giving me a perfectly textbook sociopath to enjoy in Tony Stonem- Tony is everything James wishes he could be but can't because deep down he's too insecure. And if you've got no idea what I'm talking about, then I suggest you go track down Skins and find some way to watch it because it is fabulous (and I'd also like to thank them for giving me Maxxie, no explanation necessary), and now I'm rambling, so I'll stop!

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and didn't hate it. I had fun writing it and dredging up old (bad) memories… This one wasn't as much fun to write, but it was necessary. Just two more left- Al is next.

Please review!


	48. Al, Alright

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 49

**AL, ALRIGHT**

--

So the OWLs completely kicked me in the balls.

And I mean that in the absolute most literal sense of the phrase. No, seriously, during the Care of Magical Creatures exam, I really did get kicked in the balls. Technically, I suppose it wasn't _exactly _the test's fault, but whatever. We were supposed to be cleaning Fire Crabs (for what reason, I have no idea- probably, I suppose, because Hagrid thinks that kind of shit is amusing), but Susie got so scared by hers that the second she thought it was going to burn her, she panicked, threw it, and thenproceeded to kick it. But, of course, she missed and ended up getting me right in the balls instead.

If she doesn't fail, I'm going to file an official complaint.

Needless to say, I doubled over in pain and actually almost started _crying. _Susie screamed and covered her mouth (like that was going to help something…), then she grabbed me and said how sorry she was. Only she didn't do a very good job of pretending to be sorry, considering the fact that she could hardly get the words out for all her straight-face struggling and giggling. Her and all the other girls, of course- all of them cracking up with glee at something they couldn't possibly begin to imagine the intensity of. They all stood there laughing, including my wonderful cousin who is _supposed _to be my truest ally. She's not, of course, because no _real _ally would laugh when their counterpart's testicles get smashed with a Mary Jane shoe. None of the other guys laughed, though, because they all _know _what that's like, and they know that it's about as far from a laughing matter as it's possible to be. But not the girls, though; they all stood about giggling and laughing, including my cousin.

Speaking of Rose the Traitor, I suppose it's also important to mention that she's shagging Scorpius Malfoy. She did not, however, choose to share this bit of information with me. So much for the no secrets pact that we've kept up for about sixteen years now. No, she just chose to completely fail to mention the fact that she's suddenly having sex. The only reason I know is because I can read her more easily than I can read anyone. She's very obvious, and I'm sure I could tell you the exact day that it happened because she randomly started acting funny out of nowhere. It didn't take me long to figure out why once I realized that she and Scorpius were going out of their way to avoid each other at all costs. She stopped talking about him, stopped inviting him to join us at meals, and stopped trying to turn me into his newest best mate. So I don't actually think saying "she's shagging Scorpius Malfoy" would technically be the correct phrase, since I'm fairly certain that they've only had sex once. But whatever happened during that one time must have been pretty awful to cause them to completely and totally just start avoiding each other.

I'd ask her about it, but I sort of get sick thinking about it. And I definitely don't think I'd want to have a conversation about it, either. Rose and I talk about mostly everything, but I can honestly say that we've never really had a conversation about sex. It sort of falls into that weird category where gender actually makes a difference what we do and don't discuss- sort of like periods and wanking. Still, though, she could have at least _told _me, it's not as if I'd ask for details or anything disgusting like that.

It does suck, though. Now that Rose has cashed in her V-card (by the way, I'm using the term V-card in the most ironic of ways because I _hate_ that term), I'm officially the lamest person in our entire family. I'm more than fairly certain that no one else in our family has ever made it all the way to Sixth Year without getting laid and/or having an actual relationship. But now I have, so yay for me. I'm officially the biggest loser. Awesome. Technically, I suppose Rose already beat me even before the sex because she's had a few boyfriends, and I haven't really done too much besides kiss a few girls. And, of course, the one girl I actually _liked _ended up fucking my brother…. So again, awesome.

Yeah, but whatever.

This year is over, and that's the upside to it all. This year was, arguably, one of the worst I've ever had, so the fact that's done now and that I can just put it all behind me is the only good thing to come out of it. Next year will be different. I keep telling myself that, and I hope that eventually I believe it. Really, I just hope that it's true. After all, Sixth Year has got to be infinitely better than Fifth Year, right?

Sixth Year is sort of a "free" year. There aren't any major exams that we're supposed to spend the whole year studying for and panicking over. The OWLs are over, and the NEWTs are still a whole year away. Plus, Sixth Year is the last year that you actually get to have fun at school- unless, of course, you're like _this _year's group of Seventh Years who apparently had fun the whole year and just decided to skive off the NEWTs all together. Damn, maybe we should have done that, too… Maybe then I wouldn't have been kicked in the bollocks and might still have a shot at having kids someday.

You know, if I ever have sex, of course. Which, at this point, doesn't look too likely… So maybe I shouldn't be too pissed at Susie after all.

Another great thing about Sixth Year will be that James won't be anywhere close to here. This is officially the last night that I ever have to spend in the same vicinity as him. Well, except for we live together, so I guess that was a pretty stupid thing to say, and it definitely didn't make the point I wanted to make… Hopefully, though (and I'll pray to whatever god likes witches and wizards), James will get the hell out of the house as soon as humanly possible. It's not as if he isn't eager to be gone, I'm sure. After all, he hates it there, and he hates all of us… so it would stand to reason that he would be dead set on getting the fuck out of there at the earliest possible moment.

Which, hopefully, is tomorrow.

He's around here somewhere. The Common Room is full of people who are celebrating the last night of school by doing all sorts of things that are illegal and immoral. The Seventh Years are especially happy, though I don't really know why, considering the fact that they've all pretty much doomed themselves to lives of misery and unemployment. I guess they think that nothing can happen to them since so many of them participated in the NEWTs strike, or whatever the hell they called it. But the truth is, a _lot _can happen. They aren't going to get any sort of good jobs, and they're all going to regret this very, very soon.

And all of that was James's idea, of course.

Mum and Dad are _furious. _They keep sending letters that he keeps avoiding and ignoring, and when they don't get responses, they just send more. They're probably bitching him out and also trying to share the recent developments that involved Dad moving back to the house. They're giving it another go at least, but who knows what's going to happen. It's something, though, that they're at least going to try. I don't think either of them found what they were looking for when they took their space. Maybe it'll get better… So they're probably trying to let James in on all that as well as knock some sense into him about his total and complete idiocy when it comes to the NEWTs. I don't know what goes through his head half the time when he does shit like that. I swear it's as if he does things just because he _can. _And to make matters worse, he's so manipulative and persuasive that everyone around him does whatever he tells them to do. It's pathetic really, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. He's convinced me to do plenty of things in my life as well, so I don't have much room to talk.

It's bad, though, because when James doesn't reply, Mum and Dad start sending _me _letters, asking me where he is and what he's doing and why he's ignoring them. Like I know… I haven't spoken to him for almost the entire school year- I certainly don't keep up with his private life. Except for, well, it's sort of hard not to keep up with it when it's common knowledge and one of the most popular gossip topics of the entire school. People love talking about James because he always makes for interesting conversation, I guess. The big news, of course, is that he was dumped. Kate dumped him. I think it's funny myself, especially since no one ever expected that _she _would be the one to dump _him. _The bad part of it, though, is that all the girls in school are now creaming themselves over the possibility that _they _might have a shot now, which is dumb because he's definitely leaving Hogwarts tomorrow and will not be returning. But I guess they all think they've got a chance or something, I don't know. I don't even get what the big damn deal is. I wish I did. I wish I knew what the hell he does to make all these girls fall for him so badly. Whatever gene that was must have skipped over me completely because no girls ever queue up for me, that's for damn sure.

It's good that Kate dumped him, though. Maybe now he'll learn his lesson and see that he can't treat people like shit all the time and that sometimes he has to think about someone other than himself. I doubt he'll learn anything, though, because he's too dense and too self-absorbed to ever see anything that way. Everything is about him, and it's always been about him. He doesn't tolerate thinking about anything beyond himself, and that's his main problem. He thinks the entire world revolves around him, and he can't grasp the fact that the sun doesn't rise and set out of his own arse.

But he won't learn anything. He never does.

So even though I'm the only one who didn't get laid this year, I'm also the only one not suffering because of it. James is trying to act like he doesn't care and is failing miserably, and Rose is going out of her way to try to be normal, which only makes her way more obvious and makes her way more obvious and makes her act even more oddly than she usually does. Like right now, for example, she's playing some sort of drinking game with her friends, and she's teetering right on the edge of being too drunk. And I know that if she _does _get too drunk, she's going to end up making an awful fool of herself and probably spilling all of her secrets to a bunch of people who will guard all the new information as little more than good gossip topics.

So I go over to babysit her.

She's sitting with most of our friends, plus a couple of kids from other Houses. Meghan is there, of course, but I pretend as if she's not, just because it's easier that way. It's still really weird to be around her, especially after I was such a bastard to her last month. I don't really know why I acted like that, but I guess it was a defensive mechanism. That's what Rose said anyway, and I trust her because she's got a professional who diagnoses her with that sort of stuff all the time. So if anyone knows, she probably does. Meghan doesn't look at me when I come over, and I like it that way. It's much easier to avoid someone if they're avoiding you as well. Rose is on the floor by the table, so I sit down beside her and lean back against the foot of the sofa.

"Hi," she says quietly, and she immediately leans her head over to rest on my shoulder. "D'you want some?" She holds up a pretty full glass of what appears to be firewhiskey. I almost decline, but then I wonder why. I take it from her, and I can tell by the smell that it's exactly what it appears to be.

God. I really hate this stuff. It tastes like shit, and it burns a little too much as it goes down your throat. It's strong, though, and it doesn't take much to feel the effects of it.

"Are you playing, too, then?" Lissy asks, nodding at me.

I shake my head and try to give the glass back to Rose, but she pushes it away. She's already a bit pissed, and she looks as though she might fall asleep at any second. "Me, either," she mumbles, closing her eyes, and her head nearly immediately feels heavier.

So I sit there while Rose goes to sleep and all the rest of our friends play some game where they all confess their deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets. It's a good thing that I opted out of playing because I don't have any of those dirty little secrets. Because I.Am.A.Loser. A _giant _loser apparently because even Allen Tanner has a couple of blow jobs to disclose. And what have I got? Oh, right. A girl kissed me because I made a fool of myself and pretty much told her that I was obsessed with her, but not before she had sex with my brother. And said girl is about five feet away, which makes it even _more _awesome.

"Al…" Rose whines quietly a little while later. "I don't feel good…"

"That's because you're drinking this shit," I mutter back, downing the last of her firewhiskey.

"You can go shag whoever you damn well please, James, it doesn't matter one fucking _shit _to me!"

Whoa. Rose sits right up for that, as does everyone else. We all look around to see what's going on, and it's not hard to find the center of the commotion. Kate looks ready to murder someone, and it's not even a little bit surprising that the object of her rage is my brother. He's standing by looking half-stunned and half-stoned, which is also not even a little bit surprising. I wonder what he's done now.

"Michelle Foster is nothing but a _whore _anyway, not that _you _care! Birds of a feather and all that bit."

Oh, snap.

Well, now I know what he's done, and again, I'm not even a little bit surprised. Several people start snickering, and a few seconds later, Kate storms out of the Common Room. The stunned silence is very brief, and before long, most people are back to their own conversations. Rose looks at me and raises her eyebrows in what I imagine is guarded amusement. I look back and can't help but smirk. Does it make us bad people if we get amusement out of his misery?

"I have a secret," she whispers, and I can tell that, while she's now fully-awake, she's still a bit drunk. And she's about to tell me something that's really something we don't normally discuss- not that we've ever had a _reason _to discuss it before, but still.

I glance behind her, but everyone is all caught back up in _their_ game. Still, though, if she's going to tell me what I think she's going to tell me, it's probably not a great idea to do so right here in the middle of everyone- even if they _are_ otherwise engaged. She seems to agree because she holds out her hands in what is obvious an order for me to help her up, even though I'm sitting down as well. I still do it anyway, though, because I nearly always do everything she says. I should probably stop that sometime, but if I didn't learn my lesson after she told me to put dungbombs into my grandmother's casserole when I was seven, I probably won't learn it anytime soon.

After I stand and pull her up, she glances around, obviously looking for somewhere that we can talk privately. Before she picks her spot, though, she reaches back down and picks up the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey and refills her glass. Great, now she'll really get pissed and probably share even _more _details.

We end up on the stairs, several steps down from where Michael Penley and Abby Marshall are making out. Rose looks at them hatefully (not that either of them notice), and she rolls her eyes before sitting down and taking a long drink from her glass.

"I had sex with Scorpius."

She says it so abruptly and straight-forward that I'm actually shocked, and my eyes widen in what she probably reads as genuine surprise. I knew it already, of course, but the way she said it certainly caught me off-guard, and I look at her curiously and decide to play dumb.

"Really?"

"You already knew."

Busted. She can read me as easily as I can read her. I just shrug, and she sighs and goes right on with her secret-telling.

"It was the most awful thing ever."

Well, I wasn't really expecting _that. _I don't particularly know how to react, so I just raise my eyebrows slightly and say, "What happened?"

I shouldn't have asked.

"Well, for starters, he couldn't figure out where to go." Oh, _Christ, _why did I open my mouth. "And then it was over in about two seconds, and I'm not even sure it _counts." _She scowls for a second and then downs another long chug of her drink.

I don't know what to say. I'm horrified that I just heard my cousin say, _"Well, for starters, he couldn't figure out where to go." _Beyond the obvious ick factor of it, I'm also confused. How hard could it possibly be to figure out where to go? It can't be _that _confusing; I mean, what all could really be down there? If I ever get to have sex, I hope to god that I don't set off any possible conversations that involve my inability to figure out where to put the damn thing.

"Are you listening to me?" Rose asks, clearly annoyed. She sort of glares at me before drinking even more.

"Yeah," I say, snapping back to reality. "Of course."

"Well, I asked you a question."

She did? "Oh, sorry. What was it again?"

She rolls her eyes and huffs a bit. "I _asked _you if it's always over that fast."

Oh, god, I think I'm going to puke. "How the fuck should I know?"

She turns red, and I'm sure my face shows the same. We do share that particular horrible gene. "Well, I'm sure you…" She makes some ridiculous waving of the hand motion, and for half a second, I think she must assume I've shagged someone. That hope's shot, though, when her hand waving motion turns into a very quick wanking motion that pretty much makes me want to die right on spot.

"_Rose!"_

"Well, _shit, _Al," she shoots back defensively. "Who the fuck else am I supposed to ask?!"

I grab her glass and down as much of it as I possibly can without gagging. She waits patiently, and I consider getting up and leaving her alone. If I wasn't just a slightly bit intoxicated, I probably would. "Probably not two seconds," I finally say, though I carefully avoid eye-contact.

Rose sighs loudly and leans back against the wall. "That's what I thought… My boyfriend's got a defective cock…"

I happen to be taking another drink at that exact moment, and I end up choking on it. I splutter about and cough for a good thirty or so seconds, and Rose just sits there and looks at me. And to top it off, she actually looks _annoyed. _I could be dying, and she would just be sitting there looking all pissed off at me for interrupting her moaning about her boyfriend's _defective cock. _

When I finish, I'm still alive (thankfully), and Rose is still sitting there looking annoyed. "Are you done?" she asks, reaching over and taking the drink back.

"I cannot have this conversation with you," I tell her seriously, swallowing up some fresh air.

"Oh. Well, fuck you," she says, crossing her arms childishly and shooting me a glare. She isn't _seriously _angry, just annoyed that I'm not doing exactly what she wants for once and listening to her blather on about how inadequate her sex life is. "If you're not going to be a good cousin to me, then I'm going to bed."

"The fact that I _am _your cousin should tell you exactly how inappropriate this is."

She hesitates a second and then says, "Oh, fuck you," again because it's what she always says when she can't come up with a good comeback. Then she finishes off the last of her whiskey and uses the banister to pull herself to her feet. "Goodnight, Albus," she says snottily, tossing her hair behind her shoulder.

"Night, Rosie."

She glares at me once more and mumbles something about disloyal family members as she half-stomps/half-stumbles up the stairs toward the girls' dormitory. I watch her go, and then I let out my own sigh and lean back against the stairs, trying to ignore Michael and Abby and all the other people around me who are paired up into couples and making the most of the last night of term.

Eventually, I suppose I must drift off to sleep because the next thing I know, I'm waking up hot and sweaty, and the busyness and noise of the party has died down tremendously. In fact, there're very few people around at all, and the ones who are around are either passed out in various positions or so caught up in public displays of affection that they seem to be entirely oblivious to anything and everything around them.

I look over at the clock and see that it's nearly four in the morning. That means that we're supposed to be up in three hours and on a train home in five. My neck is stiff, and all my joints seem strangely stuck together. I'm still very, very tired, so I do my best to stretch myself out a bit before I stand up. When I do make it to a standing position, I hear something pop, though I'm not sure what it is. My head is splitting, too. Fuck that minimal amount of firewhiskey that's already giving me a bit of a hangover. God, life is shit, isn't it?

Just as I turn to head upstairs, though, I hear the Portrait Hole open, and by immediate reaction, I turn around to see who's coming in. I'm shocked at what I see, and it stops me dead in my tracks. James has just come in, and he looks like total and complete _hell. _Not only does he look totally wasted, he's also a bit green, which leads me to believe he's already been sick. And on top of that, his eyes are bloodshot and red, which shouldn't be surprising considering how much spliff he and his mates had earlier. It's not just that normal sort of red, though; it's a bright red, and his eyes are swollen.

He's been crying. And from the looks of it, he's been crying for awhile.

He doesn't see me at first, and he bypasses all of the random people who are still left in the Common Room as he heads for the stairwell. I contemplate hiding, but it's no use because he spots me a second later.

His already out of it face turns a bit darker and bit more pissed off. "Great," he mutters, moving toward the stairs.

I should just leave it alone. I'm probably the last person in the world who James wants to talk to right now. Still, though, I can't help it. I have to ask because I would be concerned about _anyone _who came in at four in the morning looking like that.

"Are you okay?"

He stops, opens his mouth to say something that's probably very rude, but stops suddenly with a very strange look on his face. It only takes me half a second to realize he's about to spew, and he does just a second later, grabbing a bin and puking straight into it. It's a testament to just how otherwise occupied the rest of the people in the Common Room are because no one even looks up or notices that someone's heaving their brains out into a rubbish bin by the stairs.

Something tells me to just move along and head upstairs while he's distracted, but something else (probably the stupid firewhiskey) tells me to show a little bit of concern, even though I know it won't do any good.

So, I take a few steps back down to the Common Room and ask yet again, "You okay?"

James finishes what seems to be a particularly long gagging and then glares up at me. "Yeah, fucking splendid, can't you tell?"

And… I knew it.

My eyes roll of their own accord. "Whatever," I mutter, turning away to go upstairs. I don't know why I even ever bother with him. If I didn't have a little bit of alcohol in my system, I probably wouldn't.

Just as I make it to the first stair, though, James speaks up out of nowhere. "Kate dumped me."

I stop and contemplate whether turning around is a good idea. After all, James is a prick, and I don't know why I should even have to feign concern about anything of his. Still, though, the stupid bit of alcohol seems to be playing a much bigger role than it should. I really should start drinking that shit more often, and then maybe it wouldn't have such an effect.

"I thought she already dumped you," I turn around slowly. He looks like absolute shit, and he's got a bit of sick in his hair. He doesn't seem to notice, and I wonder how long it's been there. Judging from the color of his skin, this probably isn't the first time he's vomited tonight.

"She did it for real," he mutters, wiping his mouth and looking like he might pass out somewhere. "She hates me."

I think about telling him that she doesn't _hate _him, but it's probably a lie because she probably does. I don't really know how she lasted _this _long even because I can't imagine that he's a great person to have a relationship with. But I also don't really know why so many people enjoy spending time with him when I happen to think he's a giant pain in the arse every second that he's awake and most of the seconds that he's asleep.

When I don't say anything, though, James seems to take that as his cue to keep talking. I've no idea why he's saying anything to me, much less telling me about his girl problems. But I listen anyway. Damn, I wish I could just walk away.

"She slapped me, too." He looks dazed as he sets the bin down and leans against the corner of the stairwell. "I told her I loved her, and she slapped me…"

He told her he _loved _her? What the fuck? Maybe he _did _hit his head harder than we originally thought. I just stare at him in shock, and I'm horrified to realize that the look on his face is serious and that he honestly _does _look like he was being serious when he said he loved her. It's creepy.

"Why did she do that?" I ask warily, knowing I don't really want to know and knowing that I should just walk away and leave it alone. I can't, though.

James closes his eyes for a second, and I kind of think he might actually fall over because he doesn't seem exactly steady on his feet, to say the least. "She doesn't believe me," he says, and if I didn't know any better, I'd say that his tone actually sounds _sad… _"It's the truth, though," he goes on, finally opening his eyes. "I'm in love with her."

Is he _serious _with this shit? Fuck. Is he _crying? _His eyes are wet, and his face is all screwed up, and yep… he's crying. _Shit._

I don't know what to do. I do know, though, that if anyone else catches sight of this that James'll never live it down, and even though I shouldn't give a shit, I do. So I grab him by the elbow and pull him into the empty stairwell and away from anyone who might look up from their own activities and spot him.

"Why won't she believe me?" he asks helplessly as I drag him into the stairwell.

I don't know what to _say_, either, so I just shake my head. "Maybe she just needs some time…"

"There isn't any time left," he says bitterly. "It's over…"

"Maybe not," I say carefully, though even I don't believe that.

"I fucked everything up." James wipes at his eyes and draws in a staggering breath that doesn't do much in the way of quelling his tears. "I fucked _everything _up…"

And then he starts actually visibly crying with real tears that fall down his cheek instead of just wet his eyes. He shakes his head in an attempt to stop himself, but he apparently gives up a second later. I just stare at him, horrified, of course, because the last time I saw him cry was probably ten years ago or maybe even more.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes again. "I don't know why I'm like this… I don't know why I do shit…."

"Well, just," I struggle around awkwardly for something to say, "tell her that, and maybe she'll be okay with it…"

He just shakes his head, though, and then he drops his forehead against the wall over the banister. I don't know if I should just leave him alone or if I should say something or what. I wish he'd stop and just turn around and tell me to fuck off or something, so that there could be _some _sense of normalcy. But he doesn't. Instead, when he finally turns around, his eyes are red and watery, and he looks straight at me.

"I'm sorry I fucked up your year."

I'm shocked. Literally. I don't remember one single time in my entire life that he's ever apologized to me without being ordered to by my mother. And every single time he ever apologized under _that _situation, he always turned around ten minutes later when Mum was gone and told me that he _wasn't _sorry and usually added in a couple of unflattering names as well.

So I say absolutely nothing in response.

James wipes at his eyes and obviously struggles with trying to get the crying under control. I'm sure he's embarrassed, but he's also so fucked that he probably doesn't even register half of it. "I shouldn't have done that shit." He doesn't say _what _shit, but I've got a pretty good idea. "I don't know why I act like that…"

He seems sincere. Yes, he's absolutely wasted, but obviously something's happened that has turned him into a complete pansy all of a sudden. And so I shrug, with some sort of offered acceptance of his apology.

"Dad moved back," I say out of nowhere, mostly because I haven't got anything else to say. I know he doesn't know because he hasn't been reading any of their letters, so unless he's heard it from Lily (and I really don't think he has because he hasn't talked to her very much lately, either), it's probably news to him.

It is. He raises his eyebrows and nods slowly as he wipes at his nose. "Cool."

And that's as far as it can go without being even _weirder _than it already is. We're not the type of people who can have these types of touchy-feely conversations without it just being plain weird and uncomfortable. So that's it.

James looks away and then takes in another breath. "I'm going to bed," he says quietly. "My head hurts."

I can imagine that it does. I just nod and stand around awkwardly until he stumbles up the stairs and out of sight. I'm in shock really. I've no idea what just happened, but I'm pretty sure James just apologized to me and cried over a girl. Wow. Must be a full moon or something…

When he's made it upstairs, I start heading up myself. Things might be okay now. Maybe. I dunno, we'll see if he remembers any of this in the morning- or in three hours when we have to be at breakfast. Even if he doesn't remember, though, I think things might still be alright.

And even if they're not, there's always next year.

--

A/N: And there's Al's last. Just one more to go, and I'm sure no one's surprised that it's Rose.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are awesome!


	49. Rose, Learned Lesson

LESSONS LEARNED

Chapter 50

**ROSE, LEARNED LESSONS**

--

So it's over.

The school year's over, and now it's officially summer. Or almost officially anyway- I suppose it won't _really _be over until we get on the train and head home. But it's as good as over.

I'm the first one awake, which isn't surprising, seeing as how my roommates didn't bother coming up to bed until the early hours of the morning. I suppose they were having too much fun drinking and/or shagging their boyfriends. I didn't have much fun doing either, though I did spend a bit of time playing their stupid drinking game. I regret it now, of course, because my head hurts, and I feel a bit off. There'll be a lot of that going on this morning, I'm quite sure. In fact, most of it'll be a lot worse than what I'm going through, seeing as how the majority of the people who were downstairs in the Common Room last night drank a hell of a lot more than I did.

Not that it matters, of course, because I still spilled my Big Secret.

Turns out it wasn't such a Big Secret after all because I'm fairly certain that Al already knew about it before I decided to get drunk and blab it. He pretty much said as much last night. Of course he didn't know _all _of it, and I'm pretty sure he could have gone the rest of his life without hearing the details. I don't know why I decided to share them, and I _certainly _don't know why I decided to ask his opinion on the duration and other embarrassing things… But I did. Because that is what alcohol does to you.

It makes you an idiot.

Apparently I wasn't the only one who got too drunk and made an idiot of myself. James was the center of a rather amusing scene as well, and I can only hope that it ended with Kate slapping the shit out of him and telling him to fuck off. Unfortunately, the chances of that having happened are slim to none because girls don't generally make a habit of telling James to fuck off. They make more of a habit of telling James to fuck _them. _Oh, god, gag me. I'm going to need a shower to get that image off. Actually, I need a shower anyway because I smell like firewhiskey, and being up first is such a rare occurrence that I need to jump at the opportunity to actually have hot water.

I slide out of bed and grab my toiletries before heading for the bathroom. It's empty, too, of course, seeing as how the only other people who use this particular toilet are all still passed out in their beds. They need to get up soon, though, because our room's a mess, and it has to be cleaned with everything packed before we can head home. And if we want breakfast, we need to be downstairs for _that _in just under an hour.

Oh, gross. Disgusting! There's vomit on the floor. Somebody apparently drank a little too much and then didn't bother cleaning up after themselves. I bet it was Lissy. The last I checked, she was losing the drinking game _big _time, so she was probably so drunk that she couldn't even find a toilet or a sink to spew in. She's going to be in a _lovely _mood when she wakes up, I'm sure.

Breakfast is pretty empty. Apparently most people have chosen to either sleep through the last meal of the year, or they need that time to finish their last-minute packing and cleaning. Most of my own stuff is done, but I'm sure I'll get roped into helping the other girls finish. None of my roommates make it- surprise, surprise. But Al does, and he sits down beside me and starts filling his plate before I can even offer a good morning.

"So," I say awkwardly. "Don't bring up anything I said last night, okay? Ever."

"James cried."

My mouth drops open, and I look at him incredulously. "_What? _When?"

"Last night." He takes a big bite of eggs and washes it down with juice before continuing. "Kate dumped him, and he came in and he cried. I swear to god."

I can't believe it. I _don't _believe it. James Potter would never cry over a girl. "Shut up, stop lying."

"I'm not lying!" He looks at me wide-eyed and shakes his head seriously. "He was drunk, but still."

I stare at him, and I can tell he's not lying. Holy shit. "_Wow," _I say disbelievingly.

Al just nods. "Yeah. Wow."

Scorpius comes in and goes over to the Slytherin table. It's easy to spot him because there are so few people here this morning. He catches my eye as well, and when he does, he gives me a nervous sort of smile. It's the most contact we've had in two weeks. I'm not lying.

I'm not mad at Scorpius. I'm not even _that _upset. I think we let the awkwardness get in the way, though, and now it's hard to just go up and talk to him. I'm sure he feels the same way. But it's the last day of term, and this isn't going to happen. We're _going _to fix this before we go home. Talking to Al about it last night, while horribly mortifying, did make me realize that I like Scorpius. And that that's really the only thing that matters.

The rest will work itself out. It has to.

I don't get to talk to him during breakfast because Al keeps chewing my ear off recounting the events of last night. He tells me all the details he knows about James (who is noticeably absent, big shock). And then he starts telling me about the last letter he got from his parents and about how they're going to try and make it work. He's already told me about that letter, but he sounds so hopeful that I don't have the heart to tell him I've already heard it.

I don't get to talk to him any other time during the morning, either, because after breakfast, I have to go back up to Gryffindor, wake all my friends up, and get them packed. They're all terribly hungover and not very productive at all, so I end up doing most of the work. Still, though, we make it downstairs on time, and we all pile into a carriage with Al and JD. It's awful, by the way, the entire interior smells like sick.

I'm more than ready to get out by the time the carriages arrive in Hogsmeade. Lissy looks like she's going to puke at any second, and everyone is being rather snappish with each other- the result of too many hangovers, no doubt. It hits me, though, that even though I'm now able to escape the carriage, I've still got to spend several more hours in a train compartment with these people. Hopefully they'll just all go to sleep, and then I won't have to worry about any of it anymore.

It's a sunny day, which is shocking, seeing as how we haven't seen the sun in several days. It's been storm after storm after storm. It's the first day of summer hols, though, so maybe that's a sign. I hope so anyway. I hate the rain with a passion. Today's very hot, though, and the sun is adding to that. I'm too picky, I want it sunny but I don't want it too hot. This is why I'm never satisfied with anything ever.

The platform is crowded, of course, as everyone runs about trying to find their friends before the board the train. A few people are crying, which is stupid since we've still got the entire train ride home for sappy goodbyes. I don't believe in sappy goodbyes, mostly because I hate sappy anything. It's probably because I've got such a cold, bitter black heart. Or at least that's what I would assume anyway, I don't really know.

Hugo and Lily hop out of a carriage behind mine, and they both head straight over to where Al and I are standing. Lily's got on some ridiculous dress that looks better suited for a formal dinner party rather than a long train-ride to London and then, for her, another hour or so in the car. Unless, of course, they're coming over to our house, which wouldn't really surprise me at all. I don't really care as long as we haven't got to go to the Burrow tonight. I am definitely not in the mood for that. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents, but I can do without spending my first night of holiday at their house. I'm just saying.

"Can I borrow some money?" Hugo asks, squinting up at me in the bright sunlight. "I need some for the trolley."

I just look at him, wondering if he's fallen down and hit his head. "What do you mean _borrow? _You haven't got any money to pay me back."

"I might have later."

"No, you won't. You never have any money, you idiot." And it's true, he doesn't. If he ever _gets _money, he spends it right away because he's an irresponsible _child._

"I can ask Mum and Dad to pay you back."

"They don't have any money, either," I snap.

He just looks at me, clearly confused. "But I thought Mum just got a big raise…"

She did, of course, or at least I assume she did or will soon- I haven't actually seen the numbers. Not that it matters because they had plenty of money before. But Hugo can't understand certain types of sarcasm. Because he's also an unintelligent _child. _It's not my fault if all the intellectual genes were spent on me and none were left over for him.

When I just roll my eyes at him, he gives up and just says, "Fine, can I _have _some money?"

"You should say _may _I have some money, and no, you may not."

He scowls at me, but it's not my fault he clearly slept through that particular grammar lesson. Then he shakes his head and turns to Al. "Can I borrow some money?"

And to my horror, Al pulls a couple of galleons out of his pocket and drops them into Hugo's waiting hand.

"He's never going to pay you back, you know that, right?" I look at Al and then at Hugo who is pocketing the money happily.

But Al just shrugs. "It's fine."

Then Lily perks up. "Can I borrow some money, too?" she asks eagerly.

Al just narrows his eyes at her. "No."

So she turns to me. "Rose?"

I just look at her like she's as crazy as she's pretending to be.

"What?"

"Can I borrow some money?"

"I'm sure you're perfectly capable of borrowing money, but no," I say flatly, "you _may _not_."_

"But Al just gave Hugo some," she argues quickly.

I shrug my shoulders carelessly. "So? He's nicer than I am."

"But that's not fair!" She looks incredulously from me to Al and finally to Hugo who immediately relents.

"I'll share with you."

Lily draws in a deep breath and stands up taller. "That's alright," she says primly. "I've got my own. It's the matter of the principle."

"The _principle _of the _matter," _I correct her. "God, what the hell were you two doing while the rest of us were learning how to speak proper English?"

"Probably being _normal," _Lily shoots back quickly. "Instead of plotting how to pull the broomstick out of our arses."

Hugo snickers, and even Al looks like he might want to laugh. He doesn't, though, because I shoot him a very sharp glare. I open my mouth to say something back to Lily, but I'm interrupted by the appearance of yet another person to our small party.

It's Scorpius. Fan-fucking-tastic.

My family is not known for subtlety, and this is confirmed as every single one of the idiots around me stands there very obviously and stares at him like he's some sort of alien. I myself want to die, of course, because A) I'm related to nothing but fuckwits and B) I haven't spoken to Scorpius in several days. And several days ago when I _did _speak to him, it was to say, "Excuse me," as I squeezed past him in the stairwell on the way to our Potions exam. The last _real _conversation that we had was on the night we did it, and that's something I try not think about if at all possible (by the way, it's not at all possible, and I think about it all the time against my own will). But this is what I wanted, right? I made up my mind to talk to him and get everything worked out, and here's my shot…

"Um, hey," he says quietly, and he looks past my head instead of at me. It doesn't stop me blushing, though. Of course.

"Hi," I say back, and I can hear myself and hear the uneasiness in my tone. It's not very convincing.

Somewhere behind me, I hear a very distinct snicker, and I make a mental note to murder Lily. The answering half-second snort reminds me to kill my brother as well. I snap my head around to shoot them warning glares that they both take notice of. Even if they are little brats, they still know that I'll hurt them, so Lily smartly tugs on Hugo's sleeve, and they head off quickly to board the train. I'll kill them later, preferably when we're home and I can't be expelled for it.

No one says anything for a second after I turn back around. Scorpius still isn't looking at me, but I'm pretty sure he thinks he's being convincing enough by looking past my shoulder that I won't notice the lack of eye contact.

He swallows nervously and then says, "Can I talk to you?"

"You mean _may _you talk to her," Al pipes up with the most serious look on his face. I shoot him an even worse look than I shot Lily and Hugo. He just looks back innocently. "What? I'm just giving him a head's up." He glances over at Scropius and keeps going with his ridiculous seriousness. "She likes good grammar, mate."

Scorpius looks beyond confused, and I want to smack Al but I refrain and just correct him instead. "_Proper _grammar."

"What's the difference?"

"Good is a generic adjective." Oh god, why am I even trying?

"Oh," Al nods a couple of times. "Good to know." He hesitates, and then, "Oh, sorry. _Proper _to know…"

"Oh, fuck you," I have to literally ball my fist to keep from punching him in the face.

Al just smirks and raises his eyebrows with fake sweetness. Scorpius, on the other hand, looks infinitely uncomfortable and more than a bit confused.

"Ignore him," I tell him quickly. Then I turn back to Al and narrow my eyes. "Go away."

"Fine, fine," he says, holding up his hands. "Enjoy your _privacy_." The look on his face is one of pure evil, and I have to wonder when he turned into me. I'm not sure I like it. He walks away toward the train, and I glare after him.

"He knows, doesn't he?"

I turn back around to see Scorpius looking even _more _uncomfortable than before. I debate lying, but in the end I just shrug and say, "I was drunk."

Scorpius sighs a little bit, but he doesn't say anything more about it. Instead, he looks down at his feet and hesitates over what he wants to say. It's not _as _bad as I thought it would be, but it's still pretty bad. It still feels weird.

"So," he says slowly, opening and closing his mouth several times. "So, I'm sorry."

I don't know what he's apologizing for, and I can look at him and tell that he doesn't know how to explain what it is. I ask anyway, though. "What for?"

"For the other night." He still doesn't look up. The other night- the other night two and a half weeks ago when we both humiliated ourselves in the most intimate way possible, and I mean that literally. I assume that's the event to which he's referring.

"It's fine," I say quickly, hoping to wipe away some of the weirdness. He looks really cute standing there all nervous and sweet.

He nods slowly and then finally looks up. "I know it probably wasn't what you expected…" I don't say anything, and I guess he assumes that he's correct because he only waits a couple of seconds before swallowing and saying, "But it was… It was what I always wanted." His voice drops as he's speaks, and I'm confused for about half a second. _That's _what he always wanted? A two-second shag on the floor of a broom cupboard? Oh. The way he's looking at me says exactly what he can't say.

He's talking about _me. _

I feel my face heat up slightly, and I can't help the slight, shy smile that crosses my lips. I open my mouth to say something, but I don't get a chance because I'm interrupted by a loud booming voice from behind me.

"You lot best 'urry up and board that train before it leaves without yer!"

"Hi, Hagrid," I say, and I hope the dejectedness of my tone isn't obvious. Hagrid is really nice, don't get me wrong, but he does have a tendency to be a bit loud and show up at the wrong time.

"Hullo, there, Rosie!" he says cheerfully, and I try not to wince at the nickname. "'ad a good year?"

I nod. "Yeah, pretty good." I glance quickly at Scorpius who looks out of place.

"Good, good," he replies cheerfully. "Well, yer better 'urry up and get on board, or yer'll be stayin' 'ere with me all summer!"

That thought alone is enough to make me hurry up. I flash a smile and nod again. "Right. Well, goodbye, Hagrid!"

"Bye, Rosie. You tell yer parents I said hullo, okay? And tell yer mum I voted for 'her."

Big shock. "I will. See you later." I try to get on the train, but he keeps right on going, despite the fact that the warning whistle is blowing loudly and there are very few people left on the platform.

"I always knew she'd do something 'uge," Hagrid says sentimentally. "Always was the smartest witch of 'er age, even when she was younger 'an you."

Yes, yes, we all know my mother is a genius. There's no need to rub it in. "Well, I'll tell her. Bye, Hagrid," I say, this time a bit more pointedly.

"So long, Rosie. Don't yer go gettin' into no trouble, yer 'ear me?" Then he looks straight at Scorpius and with an oddly serious face says, "And don't you go gettin' her into nothin'. Yer got that?"

"Um," Scorpius glances around nervously and then answers with more of a question. "Yes?"

"Good. Now get on that train, and I'll see yer next year!"

I don't have to be asked twice. I quickly hop through the now dangerously closing doors, and Scorpius follows me just in time. We barely make it onto two feet before the train lurches forward and very nearly knocks us both off balance.

"Rosie?" Scorpius asks a second later as the train starts to pull away from the platform.

I just shoot him a look. "Don't even _think _about it," I warn seriously.

"You let Hagrid…"

"He's old. The only people who are allowed to call me Rosie are the really old ones and the ones under five."

"Do you let your parents?"

"No. I let my grandparents. Sometimes." I fix him with a very serious look.

He smirks but smartly leaves it alone and doesn't attempt to be "cute" by calling me that awful name. Instead, he looks up the aisle at the crowds of people who are still trying to find compartments. He reads my mind and slides open the door to the first one. The first compartments on either side are nearly always empty. This is because the Prefects normally sit in one of these, and people like the avoid the Prefects at all costs. The further back in the train you go, the less likely you are to find a space.

As it stands, though, the front compartment is just fine for the two of us. I don't expect we'll be making a ton of noise or anything, so chances are we'll just be left alone. Which is fine with me.

Things still feel a bit strange, but it's amazing how quickly we're getting over that- almost as if we weren't even awkward to begin with. Scorpius looks kind of cute as he drops his bag onto one of the seats and falls down beside it.

"I really hope our trunks got on the train," he says absently, looking out the window as the trees start flying by.

This thought hasn't occurred to me, but I realize that it probably should, seeing as how pretty much everything I own is in that trunk. Well, that's a bit of an exaggeration because I still own plenty of things that are in my bedroom at home. However, all of my current correctly fitting clothing is in that trunk. So that's enough to make me hope it's on the train. We probably should have checked that…

I set my own bag down and sit on the seat opposite of him. We look at each other for a little while, and then we both find other things to stare at. I find a crack on the edge of the door that holds my attention for a little while. I don't know why. Don't ask me why. I don't know why I do half the things I do, especially when it comes to Scorpius.

"So, um," he speaks up finally, and when I look over, I think it makes him nervous because he wets his lips and his eyes got a tiny bit wider.

I can't help but smile. "Are you scared of me?"

"No," he answers, but it's completely unconvincing. "I just…"

"Yeah?"

"Well, we haven't really talked a lot since… that night. And I just want to make sure you still like me…" He ducks his head as he finishes the sentence, and god, why is he so cute?

"It was okay," I lie. "Not really what I imagined, but it was alright."

He looks relieved and raises his head. "I thought when you didn't talk to me afterwards-"

"It was dumb," I say quickly. I don't know why, but I'm hit with the sudden urge to make sure that everything is okay. I _need_ it to be okay. "I was just embarrassed."

"Are you still embarrassed?"

"A little."

"You shouldn't be." I look at him, and he offers the tiniest little smile.

I can't help but smile back. "I do like you. A lot."

His cheeks actually turn a very, very light shade of pink. My own go bright red, of course. He doesn't seem to notice as he quietly says, "I like you a lot, too."

We sit there, smiling shyly at each other, and for several minutes, we don't speak. It's not awkward, though; in fact, it's a rather comfortable sort of silence. I wasn't lying when I said I liked him a lot. I do. I like him more than I've ever liked anyone, and I don't care who knows it anymore.

There are some things I haven't told him, certain things that my mum told me about his family. At first, I had ever intention of telling him. Now, though, I don't see the point. It hasn't got anything to do with him or me or any part of us. And that's all that matters.

We can make our own history.

"I think we could get better," I speak up suddenly, breaking the silence and looking straight at him. Those grey eyes light up when I make the suggestion, and his lips curl a bit more.

"Really?"

I nod, determined to make everything perfect between us again. "Yeah, really. We just need some practice."

He smiles at me again, and I have to fight the urge to throw myself at him. It's very difficult when he looks that adorable (PS- don't ever tell a boy he looks adorable, just think it in your head).

"We've got some time," I add suggestively. "You know, an hour. Or seven."

He nods back knowingly. "Seven should do it…"

By the time we finally make it to London, I'm very positive that I'm _definitely _not a virgin. It still isn't curling my toes or anything, but it's a bit better. We'll get there. After all, we've got plenty of time.

I don't want to get off the train, but that's impossible, seeing as hour crew members are making their way up and down the aisles and double-checking the compartments. Scorpius picks my bag up and helps me sling it over my shoulder.

"You'll write over the summer, won't you?" he asks, fixing the strap on the bag and carefully tucking a random curl behind my ear.

I nod. "September's only two and a half months away."

"That's a long time."

I smile encouragingly. "Don't forget my birthday. It's in three weeks."

"I know." And he does know, I'm sure. I was just teasing anyway (not really).

"If anybody tries to kill you this summer, just let me know. My mum's pretty high up in the Ministry, so she can probably take care of it."

He laughs and nods. "Okay, I'll let you know if any of my grandfather's hits seem like they might be successful."

I grab his hand then and pull him forward the last couple of inches so that I can kiss him one more time. It's a very good kiss. And it sort of feels like it's full of hidden meaning and promises. And I like that. It makes me feel like everything really is going to be okay.

We split up when we get off the train and go opposite directions. We say goodbye with very subtle and small hand lifts and head off to our respective sets of parents. It's too early to do the whole introduction thing. And we're not stupid; we both know that we're not exactly welcome in each other's families. Not yet anyway. It'll happen.

I hope.

I grab Landon up straight away and give him a big kiss on the nose that he wipes off with a squeal. He's so adorable and so much bigger than when I last saw him. His hair is ridiculously out of control, and he's got what appears to be a big chocolate stain right on the front of his shirt. It's good to see that nothing has changed with Mum's new position.

I hug her and Dad, too, and look 'round at the Platform for other familiar faces. I haven't seen Al or any of the rest of my family since before we boarded the train, but apparently I'm the last one off because they're all already over by the train looking for their trunks. I should go get mine, too, or at least make sure it made it, but Dad takes it upon himself to head over to the piles of people to sort through and find it.

I feel so different now, even different from the last time I stood on this Platform at Easter and _definitely _different from when I stood here last summer. So much has changed. I hardly even feel like the same person anymore.

"You look lovely," Mum says nicely as I balance Landon on my hip. "You look very happy."

"I am." I smile, not able to help myself. "It's summer."

She laughs and wraps a protective arm around my shoulder. She makes random small talk as we slowly walk over to the baggage claim area, and I feel like I have a ton to tell her. I haven't felt like this in a really long time, and I'll admit that it is nice. Of course, I'm not going to tell her _everything, _but I am looking forward to talking to her.

Wow. Things must have _really _changed.

"Did you learn anything interesting this year?" she asks, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

I glance around and do a quick rundown in my head. I spot James actually pulling Al's trunk down for him and Lily alternating between chattering away excitedly to both of her parents (who are standing very close, by the way) and rolling her eyes at their apparent questions. Hugo's telling Dad something that's obviously quite funny because they're both laughing like mad. And on the complete other side of the Platform, Scorpius is talking to his own dad who appears to be listening attentively and nodding at whatever he's saying. Then I look back at Mum and smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, I learned a lot actually."

--

A/N: And that's the end! I'm sad for it to be over because it's been SO much fun writing. Still, though, it's been a long ride, and it's sort of bittersweet. Thank you guys for sticking with it all the way through to the end. I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it.

People have been asking about a sequel, and I do have some things running around in my head. I'm mostly stuck trying to figure out _how _I want to write it- whether I want to go back to a plot-driven style or stay character-driven. I'm not sure. It shouldn't be too long, though, so keep your eyes out for it. I'm sure it'll be a blast to write, too.

Again, thank you for reading and definitely thank you to everyone who has reviewed. You guys are awesome, and I heart you all!!


	50. Sequel

I haven't posted the link to the new story yet. If you're already reading it, I hope you're enjoying it, and if you're brand new to it, then I hope you see something you like!

Finding the Future

.net/secure/live_?storyid=4619108&chapter=1


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